Second Chances
by AmyGoddess
Summary: Leia and Han get a second chance at love when he's rescued from Jabba's clutches. Goes from the very end of Empire Strikes Back to the end of Return of the Jedi. Told from various points of view, but mostly Han and Leia's. M for later chapters. Could be slightly AU-ish, but mostly I'm writing what I think happened in between certain scenes . . .
1. Chapter 1

She looked out the large viewing window of Home One, out into the vast blackness of space. Millions of brilliant white stars danced in the dark, surrounding the hundreds of planets spreading throughout the galaxy. Thousands of ships of various shapes and sizes carried all manner of people and cargo to certain destinations. And small one ship, out of many, carried a cargo more precious to her than her own life. Frozen in carbonite, yet still alive, Han Solo's final destination was the palace of Jabba the Hutt, a vile place beyond her imaginings.

Leia felt helpless. Alone and lost, even more so than when Alderaan was destroyed. Some had tried to help her deal with the aftermath of the planet's destruction, but Han was the only one who knew about her continued nightmares. He was the only one who continually nagged at her to actually eat, to get some sleep, to not work herself to death. He was the only one who dared to push at her, and he was good at it. Now that he was gone, Leia realized just how much she'd come to rely on him, how much she loved all the ways he took care of her. What was she going to do without him?

Luke stood next to her, his good arm around her shoulder. She knew he cared about her, would do anything to help her right now. But he wasn't who she really wanted. Though she cared about Luke, even loved him, he simply was not the man she needed.

She fingered the envelope in the pocket of her dress. A letter Chewy had given her just before he and Lando boarded the ship. _Han wrote this on the way to Bespin_, he'd said. _He wanted me to give it to you if anything happened to him_. A part of her wanted to run to her rooms and read it now, but she waited. Luke was still sick, he still needed her help. Later, in private, she could read the words Han had written. She could put off for a few hours feeling the fresh pain of loss.

Together the two friends stood at the window, watching the Millenium Falcon take off, soaring through the stars to find their friend. To find her lover.


	2. Han's Letter

_Leia,_

_Sweetheart, if you are reading this, then something has happened to me. Either I'm dead, or in Jabba's dungeons, or something. Whatever it is, I'm gone, I'm not with you anymore._

_If I'm dead, then I want you to know that I loved you. Almost since the minute you ordered me into the garbage chutes on the first Death Star, I think, although it took me a while to admit to myself that I really did love you. I should have left to pay off Jabba right after we blew that thing up, but I couldn't make myself leave. I should have left lots of times after that, but I didn't want to leave you. I couldn't._

_There are so many things I love about you. The way your eyes sparkle when we argue. The way your cheeks flush pink when you get embarrassed. Seeing all your hair down around you like a beautiful silk curtain. The way you finally let me in, let me pleasure you those couple nights just before Bespin. Gods, I wish we'd done that years ago! Hearing your cries and moans, watching your face, feeling you respond to me, it was so thrilling. I could make love to you all day, each and every single day of the rest of my life, and never, ever tire of it. Or of you._

_The way your mind works, the ideas you have for missions, strategies, everything. Your passion for the rebellion, for freedom and justice. How you talk to the new recruits, and the older soldiers, and anyone in between. It's pretty inspiring. I never signed up, though, because you nagged me so much about it. But there were plenty of times when I heard you talking to someone else and felt at least a little inspiration to do so. _

_I love how everything you're feeling is written on your face and in your eyes, but you try to hide it. The sadness you feel when you hear of anyone in the rebellion being hurt or killed. Everyone means something to you, and it isn't politics on your part. It is sincere. _

_I love that you trusted me. You let me help you through the stress, the nightmares, the overwork, even though you didn't want to at first. And you admitted that you were wrong about me, more than once. Now that I really loved to hear._

_If I am still alive, everything I just wrote stands true. If I'm alive, then I'm thinking about you, wondering how you are and if you're taking care of yourself. You'd better be, or you're going to be in trouble when I finally see you again. Know that I'm going to do everything I can to get back to you. Under no circumstances are you to try and come rescue me, if I'm imprisoned by Jabba. He's vile and slimy and ruthless. I don't want you anywhere near him, not even on the same planet._

_I'm not a man who ever thought of the future, not really. Not past the next job and getting the credits rolling in to keep the Falcon flying. Not until recently did I start to think of what I might want, if I could be lucky enough to live. If the rebellion is able to overthrow the Empire and we survive, then whatever life I have after that, I want you in it. I want you to be with me._

_If I'm still alive, then wherever I am, know that I'm dreaming about you and hoping you feel the same way about me._

_I love you, Leia._

_Han_

"Han Solo, you are such an idiot!" Sitting alone on the bed in her stateroom, tears streaming down her face, Leia shook her head. "You really think I'm going to sit here and do nothing when you're in trouble? Just wait at home like a good little woman and let the men go in. Not a chance, flyboy. Not a chance in hell."

Leia wiped her wet cheeks and laid the letter in front of her, reading it again, slowly this time. It really was a beautiful thing, what Han had written. So much he'd observed about her, things she wasn't even aware of. Things she'd done that really meant something to him.

_I love that you trusted me. _Did he think that because he was a smuggler, something of a criminal, he wasn't worthy of trust? Some on the base, especially Mon Mothma, hadn't trusted him at all, just for that reason. But Han had many layers. He wasn't just one thing. He was smart, and loyal, courageous and brave. He was, as she'd told him herself in the snowy halls of Echo Base, a natural leader.

It did irritate her, just a little, knowing that she'd almost inspired him to sign up. "If only I'd kept my big mouth shut," she said to no one. But that wouldn't have made any difference. Han would still have had a growing bounty on his head, member of the Rebellion or not. At some point he would have had to leave, or been captured by bounty hunters. Something that had almost happened on Ord Mantell.

She wondered when he had had time to lay all his thoughts and feelings out like this. Chewy said it was on the way to Bespin. But it had to be very late in the trip, after they'd been together in bed, when they'd done as much as they could without - that. She blushed, remembering her embarrassment at telling Han she had no implant and that was the only reason she didn't want him to make love to her. "That's okay, sweetheart," he'd said, "there's still plenty we can do. Let me show you." He'd been so sweet and kind about it, no teasing, no making fun of her. She just had not been able to resist him.

How right he had been, about what could still happen. Leia felt a hot wave of desire flood her body as she recalled how those skillful fingers and wet mouth had done things to her she'd only read about, when she could find the time to read popular fiction. Even though she was technically still a virgin, the rest of her was not. She'd been branded by his hands and lips and tongue, and it all had felt so unbelievably good.

And then he'd invited her to explore his body. She smiled to herself, picturing Han lying on his back on the small bunk. No shirt, just a pair of loose sleep pants, his hands behind his head. He'd given her his trademark smirk and said, "I'm all yours, Your Worship." With Han guiding her in what kind of touch and where made him feel good, it hadn't been long before her tentative efforts had become more confident, and his sighs had turned to moans and pants. "I wish you were here right now," she whimpered softly, crying again.

Weary from all her tears, Leia got under the covers on one side of the bed, and laid the letter on the other side. Where Han would lie, if he was here right now. His long frame would be pressed to hers, his hands entwined in her hair, kissing her softly. They would pleasure each other, then cuddle in the bed, talking, kissing, and finally falling asleep, each dreaming of the other. Just like before. Part of her was glad she'd been with Han, she knew the bliss of lying in his strong arms, of feeling safe and protected and loved. The other part of her wished she hadn't done so. The pain of what she was missing was almost unbearable.

Could one dream, while in hibernation in carbonite? She had no idea if it was possible. For her own sake, and Han's, she had to believe it was. "I do feel the same about you," she cried softly into her pillow, willing Han to hear her, to know that, wherever he was right now. "I want to be with you, too."


	3. Alone

"Leia."

"Luke!" she exclaimed from where she was sitting, alone at a table in the cafeteria. The hall was almost empty, mostly quiet now in the hours between dinner and breakfast. Sometimes people came here to do work late at night, to talk if they didn't want to be in the cantina or the gym.

She'd been in her room, working on her report for the rest of the High Command. General Rieekan had told her she didn't need to submit anything, she could just talk to him. But Leia didn't feel she could talk to anyone about it who had not been there - no matter how kind Carlist was and how long he'd known her. She just couldn't do it. Not now, maybe not ever.

Instead, she'd promised a report, the kind she wrote up about the missions she went on. Leia knew it would be extremely difficult to write technically and dispassionately about the events that had occurred between the escape from Hoth, and the time the Falcon had met the fleet a few days ago, without Han. And it was. Gods, was it ever. Every word she typed, every stroke of the keys reminded her of him. His smirk, the teasing look in his eyes. The steadiness of him as he expertly piloted the ship through the asteriod field. The look on his face when he saw her for the first time in all her naked glory. The way he held onto her hand as they faced Vader in Lando's dining hall. The way his eyes never left hers, not until the last possible second, as he was lowered to be frozen alive.

So much had happened, and so much of the story could never be put in a military report. No matter what happened to her or to Han, this was her precious treasure to keep. So she struggled through the writing, piecing together what she could share. It was torture, but it would soon be over.

"I'm leaving on a mission tonight, Leia. I wanted to talk to you before I go." Leia shook her head, startled, as Luke's works pulled her from her thoughts.

Her heart twisted in pain as she looked up at Luke's face. He'd been through so much, trying to help them. He'd been so ill. Now the farm boy turned rebellion hero looked so much better. Healed, with his new mechanical hand. And yet, he still seemed deeply hurt, even haunted. There was a new look in his eyes - harder, more adult. It seemed to her he'd lost his boyish innocence, and that was a part of Luke she'd always enjoyed. It made her sad for him, to see Luke so changed. Leia wondered, not for the first time, what else had happened in his duel with Vader.

She wanted to scream out loud. _No, don't go, don't leave me!_ Because when he left she would be really alone. Han was gone, and despite optimistic assurances, she did not know if she would ever see him again in this lifetime. Chewy was gone on the Falcon to find him, along with Lando, a man who had betrayed and then saved them and whom she did not trust.

And now Luke was going. There was now no one left who knew her, who understood her, who'd gone through fire with her. She would be alone. Utterly, completely alone.

"Hey. I'm still here, Leia. I'm not going to abandon you, no matter where I go."

It was as if he'd read her mind. How did he do that? He had Force abilities, had been training on Dagobah after leaving Hoth. Was that how he knew what she was thinking? "I'm sorry, Luke. I'm not myself right now," she said, looking away from him as she felt tears well up. Leia didn't want to break down in front of him, especially not in public.

"I know it's hard. I know you two love each other. But Leia-"

"How do you know?" she gasped. "You weren't there! And I didn't tell you about that."

"I can feel it." Luke sat down next to her, taking her hands in his. "I was on my way from Dagobah to Bespin, and I could feel you. And Han. Something felt so passionate and exciting, and then it was sweet and peaceful and right." Leia bit her lip and blushed furiously, recalling her time with Han, and feeling exactly that way during their pleasuring and after. "Then later, just after I touched down, I felt sick to my stomach for a minute or two. I could barely move. Then that feeling went away, and I was able to walk again."

"Oh gods, Luke, you were feeling Han when they froze him," Leia whispered hoarsely. She put her head in her hands. If Luke felt physically ill, what had Han himself felt as he was being imprisoned in carbonite? What pain was he subjected to?

"I'm sorry, Leia," Luke said quietly. "I didn't mean to upset you."

"I know you didn't. It's all right," she mumbled.

For a moment they sat in silence, not needing to say anything. They'd often shared comfortable silences, somehow being in tune with each other. For the first time in several days, Leia felt a faint glimmer of peace in the midst of her soul's turmoil.

"I'm glad if you and Han are in love, Leia," Luke murmured. She looked up at him in surprise, but Luke did not stop. "I could even feel it on Hoth, what was happening between you two. I didn't want to, I wanted you for myself. Or I thought I did. But you've seemed like a good friend to me, never a lover. It never really felt right, no matter what I tried to tell myself. You and Han, though, that feels right. You need each other. You need to be together."

"Luke, I – I've felt the same way. You're my friend, a good one. And hearing you talk about Han like that, it makes things a little easier, actually."

He gripped her hand with a sudden intensity. "I mean it, Leia. I can feel it. He's alive, and we're going to find him. We're going to rescue him, and come back to the fleet. All five of us. I know it."

"Gods, I hope you're right, Luke. I don't think I could survive if he was really gone."

"You will survive. We all will. I've seen it." Luke leaned forward then and kissed her on the cheek. "I have to go now, Leia." But she wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder for a moment, sighing. Wishing one of her friends could be here with her. Since none of them could, she would hang onto Luke's strangely powerful pronouncements. "Thank you, Luke."

He stood and smiled down at her. "Take care of yourself, Leia. I'll see you soon." And with that, Luke, her last remaining friend, was gone.


	4. The Report

In his office on the Alliance flagship, General Carlist Rieekan stood in front of one of the windows, looking out into the black. Even after a long, tiring day, his posture was military perfect, the tilt of his head at just the right angle. From the back, he was the picture of a soldier – in control of himself. Ready for anything.

If anyone looked at his face, however, it would contradict the rest of him. Unshed tears pooled in his eyes. If he let it, his face would crumple into weeping, in sorrow for his old friend's daughter.

The report Princess Leia had written of her escape from Hoth and subsequent return to Home One was running on the screen of his data pad. She'd sent it last night, but knowing something of its contents by the lack of spirit in Leia's eyes, he hadn't the heart or the energy to read it then. So it was waiting for him this morning, like a hangover after a night of hard drinking. Something painful that could not be avoided, no matter how much one wanted to.

He'd already heard a little of what had happened on Bespin. The princess, ever the consummate professional, had not neglected her duties. Her report left nothing out - at the same time that it excluded much of importance.

Some of the details reminded Rieekan of adventure holo-vids he'd seen in the past. The part of the report covering their flight from Hoth to the day they'd escaped from the Imperial ships via space garbage – clever boy, that Han Solo – was technically written, but a man with a good imagination could find the story thrilling nonetheless. He had not been able to hold back a gasp, then a grin, at the ingenuity of Solo's flight through the asteroid field. Trained as a pilot, General Carlist Rieekan was a highly decorated flight leader. He had never attempted such a maneuver before. Never even thought of it. Would he even dare to try, given the choices Han had faced? It was daring and reckless, and impressive. Very impressive indeed. Han Solo had earned the respect of many of the pilots and soldiers when the rebellion was stationed on Echo Base, through his fighting and piloting skills, as well as natural leadership abilities. Not to mention his uncanny luck at Sabacc. When people heard of this exploit, the smuggler's reputation would only be enhanced.

And the space slug. Grotesque, and almost unbelievable. That was yet another story to expand the legend. He could almost see the giant mouth beginning to close, the enormous teeth waiting to crush the Falcon like a bug. But the crew had escaped by a hair's breadth.

Reading about what happened on Bespin, however, was no adrenaline junkie's high. It was tragedy. No one had died, but there was enough pain and hurt to last a lifetime. A tear escaped his eye as he thought of Lelila. How had she managed, being forced to watch Han's torture, having been through her own interrogation on the Death Star? Then watching as he was frozen, surrounded by stormtroopers and Darth Vader, with no one but Chewbacca to protect her? Trying to stop the bounty hunter, but they were too late. If not for the eleventh hour conscience of this Lando Calrissian fellow, Leia, Luke Skywalker, and the Wookie would most likely be dead now, tortured and killed by Vader. Seeing her exit the ship some days ago, he'd thanked the gods she was alive. But one couldn't say she was well.

Fools sometimes were promoted to the rank of general, or higher, but he was no idiot. He'd watched over Leia as closely as he could, in part out of concern over Alderaan, and partly to honor his late friend Bail Organa. He'd observed her interactions with the smuggler Solo on Yavin, and then on Hoth. Verbal sparring in public, some of the barbs they aimed at each other sharp and memorable. The entire base knew, how could they not? The aptly named Rogue Squadron had set up various bets on Hoth – when they would kiss, when they would actually say something nice to each other. When they would get together, in a manner of speaking. On a base with limited options, gossip about the Han Solo and the princess provided hours of entertainment.

It wasn't just fun and games, he thought, remembering the time he ran into Solo, the man's arms full of soup and blankets as he made his way to the quarters of a sick Princess Leia. Or the time the Falcon was a week late returning from a supply run, and Leia's words to Solo as he was unloading cargo, their sharpness an attempt to mask her worry.

There was simply no mistaking the two of them were in love with each other. He'd seen it like this before. At the time they first met, Carlist did not think Han Solo was an appropriate friend for a princess. Over time, the smuggler had shown the kind of man he truly was, had proven, at least to Carlist, how good he was for Leia. Han didn't put her on a pedestal. He didn't treat her like a fragile flower. He treated her like anyone else, never sparing her. She seemed more alive around Han, more passionate and real. For that, especially after Alderaan, Carlist silently thanked Han Solo, and verbally supported his association with the princess when others criticized it.

Forty days together on a space ship, with only a Wookie and a droid for company? There was only so long one could hide away. Carlist doubted that Leia had managed to avoid Han's company the entire time. Being stuck on the Falcon like that was almost the equivalent of locking the two of them in a supply closet, something he had secretly longed to do one day after hearing them arguing continually for half an hour.

Who knew what happened between them on that trip? The details weren't his business. It was clear to him, however, that Leia was deeply affected by what had happened. He wanted to talk to her, not as a superior, but as a friend and supporter. He would give her a couple days, and then ask her to see him. If she was going to involve herself in Han Solo's rescue, as he suspected she would, she would need his backing. He already knew he would fully support her in whatever she needed to do.

* * *

She needed a stiff drink. Mon Mothma, member and leader of Alliance High Command, former Imperial senator, was not normally one to imbibe. But after reading, and re-reading, and reading again Princess Leia's report of her experiences after fleeing Hoth, she needed something. Anything to calm her jittery nerves.

It wasn't the flight through the asteroid field that had her uncharacteristically ruffled. Although it must have been extremely frightening for Leia to watch, wondering if one of the enormous pieces of flying rock would smash that ship to smithereens.

And the space slug. They'd almost met their deaths there. Who in their right mind would land in the throat of such a creature? But apparently Han Solo didn't know at the time that what he was flying into could destroy them with one snap of its teeth. Someone was looking out for the crew that day, helping them fly out in the nick of time.

It was upsetting to read about the events in Bespin. Quite upsetting, actually. She'd never cared for Han Solo, an arrogant, low class smuggler who'd somehow managed to charm his way into Alliance resources, and into the heart of a princess. For as long as she'd known him, she wanted him gone, away from Leia. But torturing him? Freezing him in carbonite and turning him over to a bounty hunter? The Alliance didn't exist to copy the methods of the Empire. She'd never stoop as low as Vader and Palpatine had to treat another human being as they had Han.

The report exposed problems for her and for the Alliance. And they were all interlinked.

What would happen to Leia's reputation? The young woman had spent forty days on a ship with that man, with only a Wookie and a droid as chaperones. It could hardly be expected that Leia had stayed in her cabin the entire time. Everyone on Hoth knew about their interactions. Mon had always hated the bets the Rogue Squadron set up about the princess and the smuggler. It seemed there was a new one each week. She found it so degrading to hear the young pilots gossip about when they would kiss. Or gods forbid, when they would have sex. And it was infuriating to know that Rieekan and Madine, also part of High Command, did not share her views on the subject. In fact, they found the entire situation entertaining.

She'd never had any kind of conversation with Leia about Han Solo that actually went well. She'd never been able to convince the young princess that the smuggler was unsuitable as a casual friend, let alone a boyfriend of some sort. Carlist and Crix had always supported him, no matter what. And Leia was so very, very stubborn sometimes. The rescue from the Death Star had forged seemingly unbreakable bonds between the four of them - Commander Skywalker, the Wookie, Han Solo, and the princess. If only someone else had rescued Leia from the first Death Star, Mon thought. If only.

So in forty days, with no audience, anything could have happened. Clearly Leia was deeply affected by her experiences. But what were they? She did not know if she had the nerve to ask the princess about what had happened between her and Han Solo. _Are you still a virgin? Are you, gods forbid, pregnant?_

The report was nothing that needed to be kept confidential. Not for strategy and planning purposes. She knew how base gossip worked. The details she just read would somehow find their way through the fleet, they always did. And the princess would be talked of for weeks, people wondering and speculating on the unknown. She didn't want Leia to be seen as some cheap whore. Not by the Alliance. And certainly not by some of the planetary systems considering joining the Alliance.

Two offers to treat had come to her, neither of which she had shared with anyone else on High Command as yet. Two systems, with men and wealth and resources, starting to view the rebellion as a better option than the Empire. Considering what they might commit, and what they wanted in return. The last Princess of Alderaan's hand in marriage was something each system wanted, in return for their generous contributions.

There was no question in her mind the Alliance needed the money. If they defeated the new Death Star, they would have almost nothing left. And each system was pledging so much, it was easier to ignore the fact that Leia would be set in an arranged marriage - in cultures where women were often considered second class citizens. Where virginity and chastity and modesty were highly prized. If the leaders got a whiff of Leia's flight with Han Solo, Mon didn't know what would happen to these offers. She didn't know what would happen to the rebellion.

Sighing, she locked down her desk and data pad. She hoped she could could get some sleep tonight, it had been years since she'd had a decent night's rest. It was unlikely to happen. She was already dreading the conversations she must have with High Command, and with the princess.


	5. The Rogues Don't Leave a Man Behind

Wedge Antilles sat in a corner of the Home One cafeteria, far away from all the rest of the activity. People coming in, laughing, gossiping, eating, working. He had food on the tray in front of him. He was hungry. He did need to eat, and knowing the feeling of not having enough back on Hoth, he would not let this go to waste. No matter how unappetizing it looked, or smelled. But right now, he could not force anything down.

They were at war, had been for over three years. The stress and the pain mixed with the hope of a brighter future. He'd lost friends, mentors, teachers along the way, and grieved as he could. All the while he had a job to do, people depending on him. He simply could not allow himself to get lost in despair. No one could.

He glanced over at Her Royal Highness Princess Leia Organa of Alderaan, as she sat next to General Rieekan at a table nearby. Wedge could see her push her meager rations on her tray. There were dark circles under her eyes. Her skin, normally pale yet healthy looking, was pinched and tinged with grey. He wondered when the last time was she'd smiled about anything. He couldn't imagine that she had anything to laugh about now, not after what she'd gone through.

The worst thing about watching her, since she'd returned to the fleet without Han Solo, was when you met her eyes. Often, in the past, there had been a look of sadness there which he assumed had to do with Alderaan. Who wouldn't feel awful almost all the time, having your planet blown to smithereens, never being able to see anyone or anything you loved ever again? It was something Tycho never talked about except when very drunk. There was one night, early on when the two fighters, Wedge Antilles from Corellia and the now homeless Tycho Celchu, were sharing a bottle of smuggled Corellian whiskey in their quarters. Tycho had broken down in tears talking about his home and family. But the Alderaanian never remembered any of it in the morning.

It seemed the only thing to really bring a spark to the young princess was her interactions with his fellow Corellian. There were very few in the Rogue Squadron, very few pilots on all of Echo Base, for that matter, that didn't like Han Solo. Even though he could be an annoying, cocky bastard, Han was fun, smart, a sharp shooter and a damn good pilot. An excellent Sabacc player, too. Wedge loved the story of how Solo had won his ship. He'd even picked up a few pointers from Han and had seen his card play improve dramatically.

The Rogues had had so many bets going on Hoth about the princess and Han Solo – when they would kiss, when they might actually say something nice to each other. When they would finally just break down and screw each other's brains out. It was obvious to all the two of them were attracted to each other. Watching the two of them go nose to nose with their wicked insults, he could see the princess change. Eyes flickering, cheeks flushed. He hadn't thought she was all that attractive, not being the kind of fiery Corellian beauty Wedge was typically attracted to, but there was something striking about the princess when she was all riled up. It made a little sense, then, why Solo had consistently turned down the overtures of almost every other woman on base. Just a little.

Now it was as if the princess' eyes were almost dead. She saw you, but you saw so little in return. Like a patient whose life support was turned off. Han was gone, and her spirit seemed to have departed with him.

It hadn't taken long after the official report of the trip was submitted for some of the juicier details to spread around the ship like wildfire. He'd noticed small groups of pilots talking in awed whispers, mainly about the flight through the asteroid field. He'd never heard of any pilot doing that before. The famous Solo luck, as the smuggler had often called it when he'd won the pot in Sabacc games. Whatever it was - grace of the gods, the incredible skill of its pilot - the Falcon had made it through in one piece.

There was a lot to imagine about that trip. Obviously, details of a personal nature would not make their way into an official military report. But there was plenty of speculation. Wedge overheard gossip among the younger women on the ship, some of it snide, because they wanted Solo for themselves and were jealous of the princess. What did the two of them get up to, forty days on a ship with only a Wookie and a droid for company? Was the icy, prudish, virgin princess still pure?

It didn't matter to Wedge if Han and Leia had fucked each other senseless all day long, every day on their trip to Bespin. For once in his life, he found he wasn't interested in the gossip about someone else's sex life. Blessed or cursed with an overactive imagination, there was, out of all he'd heard, one part he could not stop thinking about. Only one. Visions of it popped into his head during the day, at random moments, startling him.

What was it to watch someone you cared about being taken from you? Being forced to view their torture and being frozen alive? And then seeing their body, encased in carbonite, flying away with some vile bounty hunter to gods knew where?

It wasn't just the daytime when his mind kicked into overdrive, imaging fear and horror and helplessness. Wedge actually had a dream about it, the very night he first heard the story. He'd woken suddenly, sweating profusely, not knowing where he was right away. The poor princess, having lived through it all, must be having nightmares. How could she not?

"I can't stand to look at her. Man, I know she's my princess, but I can't."

Wedge jumped, startled out of his thoughts by Tycho's pronouncement and the sound of his tray clattering on the table. Anyone who didn't know the Alderaanian pilot would think he was disgusted by her, but Wedge knew that was not the case. Seeing the princess looking like something barely alive was a reminder of the destruction of her planet almost three years ago. When every Alderaanian member of the rebellion looked just like Her Royal Highness did now. When all the people in the Alliance not from the destroyed planet watched their compatriots carefully, for signs they were plotting to take their own lives. When Wedge, with the help of some other pilots, had gotten a young recruit to the med center just in time to have her stomach pumped clear of an overdose of sleeping pills. It was a terrible time for everyone. They all hated to see any reminder of it, especially Tycho, but that couldn't be helped right now.

He looked up to see Wes and Hobbie just behind his roommate. The three pilots sat at the table, quietly eating, their eyes on their food. Not talking. Without ever discussing it, Wedge knew all four of them felt the same way about what had happened to the princess and Han Solo. Horrified, and helpless.

"I overheard the pilots in Red Squad going on and on about the asteroid field," Wes said quietly, finally breaking the silence. "They can't seem to get enough of it."

"You can't blame them, really, I suppose. I thought it was pretty damn incredible myself." Wedge stated calmly.

"One of the newbies was dumb enough to go up to the princess and ask her about it," Hobie snorted. "The look she gave him would have frozen a Wampa."

Tycho growled, but didn't look up from his soup. "That's the last thing she needs right now, some little Outer Rim jerk-off getting in her face, asking stupid questions."

"Don't worry, his flight leader was nearby and yelled at him. I don't think that kid will even dare to look in her direction from now on," Wes commented dryly.

"Has anyone heard, are we going to be helping in the search? I mean, if it was one of us . . . " Hobie trailed off, looking uncomfortable all of a sudden. The table went silent.

If it was one of us, Wedge repeated to himself. If it was one of us.

If it was one of the pilots at this table, or one of the many pilots on this ship, Han Solo would be in smack in the middle of any search and rescue operations. He'd be getting the Falcon ready, sitting in on discussions and planning. Putting himself and his ship, and his partner, for that matter, on the line for his friends. He'd done it before.

The smuggler cum Rebellion fighter was not just good for a laugh or a card game or a fight. He was also loyal and fierce and dependable. Wedge recalled a mission or two he'd been on with Solo. Sometimes they'd had to improvise, but Han's courage and quick thinking kept them from harm. He didn't leave a man behind. And there was the time Luke had been lost, feared dead, on Hoth. Wedge remembered the utter simplicity of Han's words as he left to find him. "My friend's out in it," he'd said, referring to the deadly cold temperatures as he mounted his Tauntaun. This was a man who was loyal to his friends.

Could they do any less? Han was their friend. In a manner of speaking, he was out in it.

"Rogue Leader, I volunteer for any search and rescue operations for Captain Solo," Wes said firmly, breaking the quiet at the table.

"I'm in, too," Tycho repeated, meeting Wedge's gaze for the first time.

"And me," Hobie said.

Looking at each of his friends in turn, admiring their dedication and commitment and loyalty, Wedge nodded. "We'll do whatever we have to do. The Rogues don't leave a man behind."


	6. A Princess for Sale

"How dare you! How dare you keep these offers from us for well over a week! We all should have been notified the minute they came in so they could be rejected right away!"

It was all General Rieekan could to do to remain in his seat at the conference table. Eyes blazing, teeth gritted together, he was holding back just as much fury at Mon Mothma as Crix Madine was expressing. And he was barely keeping it together.

He should not have been surprised at Mon's secrecy. He knew there had always been a fundamental difference of opinion between Mon and himself and Crix on the duty and responsibility of certain members of the High Council to the needs of the rebellion. Meaning, specifically, Princess Leia. Who, he was so glad to see, was not here and hopefully knew nothing of this ill-fated meeting. He hoped she would never, ever know of the offers, or what went on this room today.

The offers referred to contracts from two systems. The Moyo system, of several planets and moons, fairly well off with an economy based on mines and minerals. And the Tarakan system, even richer, heavily into weapons and spacecraft.

Both systems were getting tired of the restraints and increasing abuses put on them by the Empire. Both were beginning to see the rebellion as a better choice.

The contracts were generous. Very generous. A substantial influx of money, materials, and fighters. What the systems wanted in return was to place their leaders in High Council, as was to be expected. The Mon Calamari, having recently joined the Alliance, had done the same. Admiral Ackbar, a wise yet enthusiastic fellow, sat at the table. Carlist glanced over at him, trying to read his expression, but could not tell what his colleague was thinking about all this nonsense.

And both systems, conservative socially, with very traditional ideas about men's and women's roles, wanted one more thing. They wanted Princess Leia's hand in marriage for one of their leaders. The future groom was not named in either offer.

The request for marriage was not so unusual, it had happened before with other systems, and was soundly rejected the minute it came up. They hadn't had such an offer in a couple years.

"I wanted to talk to Leia first, to see - to see-" Mon blushed and broke off, looking uncomfortable for a moment. "It doesn't matter anymore. It's too late. We can't give them all that they are asking for."

"Of course not!" Crix snarled. "I find it revolting that you would even consider for one standard second that the princess should marry into any system just to fund the rebellion! We've rejected offers like this in the past. When did you grant yourself the authority to sell the princess off to the highest bidder?"

Carlist looked at Mon, open mouthed, horrified. "You _told _Leia about these offers?"

"No! No. I tried to ask her about the flight to Bespin. You know these two systems are very - modest with their expectations on how women - on the wedding night."

For a moment, the room went silent. Carlist closed his eyes, out of deep sympathy for Leia. Hadn't the poor girl been through enough already without a personal interrogation on her love life, at the same time that Han Solo was gone and might never be found? "Dear gods," he muttered to himself. He wondered when she and Mon had talked, and realized it had to be earlier today. Because he'd seen the princess from a distance in the cafeteria for lunch, and while she'd sat quietly, and alone, there was something in her posture and energy that told him she was angry. Very angry.

It wasn't like Mon to stutter or stumble over her words. So he had to assume - he would not ask for any details - the conversation between the two women had not gone well. Not at all. Obviously Mon had not gotten the answer she wanted.

Carlist jerked, startled, as he heard Ackbar's calm and steady voice. "I want to make sure I understand. Do we or do we not have a policy on how to handle offers to join the rebellion that include requests for the Princess' hand?"

"Apparently not, since these two were not elevated to us, and not countered immediately." Crix's tone was dry and disgusted.

"We are running out of funds. After we blow up the new Death Star, we will be almost completely broke," Mon said. "I thought if there was a chance - we could shore up funds-" she broke off as Ackbar interjected.

"No. Systems need to join the Alliance for the right reasons. We did, others will too. Leia could only marry once, and then what after that? If we can't get other systems to join on our own merits, we deserve to fail."

"Well said, Admiral, very well said." Crix seemed calmer now. Carlist looked carefully at his old friend, glad that he would not have to physically restrain him from jumping over the table to get to Mon Mothma.

"I move to establish a policy of immediate rejection of offers to join that request marriage as part of the terms," the Mon Calamarian said.

"I second that," Carlist said. Hopefully this ridiculous business was at an end, for good and good.

"And I third it. We are not in the business of slavery," Crix stated archly, staring at Mon Mothma. "Selling people for money and tangible goods is slavery. Apparently you forgot that for several days."

"I have the good of this rebellion in mind and heart just as much as you do, Crix," Mon protested hotly.

"Enough, enough," Carlist interrupted. "Mon, when will you respond to Moyo and Tarakan that we cannot agree to that portion of the offer? Tonight?"

"Yes, they need to know as soon as possible." She sighed and looked at Admiral Ackbar. "I only hope you're right."

"Of course he is," Crix muttered irritably as he headed for the door. "Once we blow up the new Death Star, we'll have yet more presence and credibility, and there will be more systems than these two wanting to join. For the right reasons."


	7. Reflections - Leia

Icy water streamed down from the showerhead, rippling over Leia's burning, sweaty body. She grimaced with shock at the feeling of cold penetrating her skin, breathing slowly in and out to calm herself. She could have had it nice and hot, but she wanted it cold right now.

The shower in her stateroom was spacious, a grand indulgence compared to the tiny, cramped box she'd had on Hoth. Roomy enough for three, possibly four people. There was a jet above her, and jets built into the wall behind her. Settings on the dial could be turned to steam or a slower massaging trickle.

Sitting down on the shelf seat, she turned the temperature to warm, turned the wall jets on so she was flowing in water from both sides.

She was tired. Leia rested her head in her hands, letting all the warmth cover her like a blanket. Thank the Gods the day was finally at an end. And she was finally tired enough, in body, mind, and soul, to maybe actually get a few hours of sleep tonight.

Unable to settle this morning after what had turned into an insulting exchange with Mon Mothma about her trip to Bespin, Leia had spent the afternoon stalking the ship, far more restless and edgy than she could recall feeling in a long time. Finally she'd made her way to the gym, and done what she could to run off her grief and fear and anger on the treadmill. She would be very sore tomorrow.

She'd had a lot to think about.

Part of her had felt, in retrospect, a little sorry for Mon. How easy could it have been to ask such personal questions, in a way that was not meant to be so obvious? Leia knew exactly what was meant when Mon asked her what had happened with Han Solo on the way to Bespin. And Leia had lied. Sort of. _"I don't care to share details of my personal life right now, Mon. I'm sure you can understand._" Implying that she had, in fact, had sex with Han, which is what Mon really wanted to know. And what had actually _not_ happened, but not because of a lack of desire on her part. Leia did want to make love with Han. Now more than ever.

And, predictably, the conversation had eroded rapidly from that point on. Mon's political, professional demeanor had vanished, and she'd delivered a tirade that only served to disgust Leia completely.

_"How could you be so foolish, Leia, so irresponsible? It was bad enough you were on that ship with him for forty days, with only his Wookie friend and that droid. That trip alone would be something of a smear on your reputation, but we could talk that away because they rescued you from dying on Hoth. We could spin that into respectability and heroics. But to give yourself to that man, to go to bed with him! A low class smuggler, a criminal for Gods sake! Have you lost your mind? Did you forget about your duty to the rebellion in a haze of lust? What will people think of you when they find out? They'll think you're some space slut, a cheap whore! 'If she'll have sex with a guy like Han Solo, she'll have sex with anyone!' Is that what you want people to think?" _

_It was all she could do not to reach across the desk and slap her father's old friend, and the woman who had been one of her teachers and mentors. Hands fisted in her tunic, Leia struggled to keep her voice steady. "You're the only person I know who thinks of Han in those overly simplistic terms. Everyone else on High Council can see the qualities that compelled Crix Madine to offer Han a first level captaincy, and more than once. You're the one who sees me as a cheap whore."_

_Leia watched as Mon's face twisted in anger. And then she delivered a blow that left Leia reeling. "What would your father say, if he was alive, if he was here now and knew what you have done? He would be so disappointed in you." Mon's tone was that of withering scorn. _

_Shocked at the brutality and insensitivity of the question, Leia jumped up from her seat, swaying slightly. Keep your cool, keep your cool, she thought to herself, breathing quickly, nostrils flaring as she watched Mon Mothma watching her. "My father would want me to be happy," Leia managed in a voice trembling with anger. "Han makes me happy. And for the record, I will be taking a leave from the rebellion to find and rescue him." _

_That put Leia at the end of her tolerance. She could not take any more. Without another word or another look at Mon, she left the office, slamming the door behind her._

The pounding of the water on her head pulled her out of the nasty memory of the morning. She didn't want to think about Mon Mothma, her limited attitude, her cruel words about Han. But the politician in Leia knew there were some in the galaxy who would see things the same way Mon did.

Low class smuggler.

Cheap space slut.

The Princess of Alderaan, even without a planet, was a figure of intergalactic reknown and celebrity. Even before she'd abandoned the corruption of the Imperial Senate for the justice and freedom of the rebellion, people everywhere had known who she was. Pictures snapped of her in public at various events, or scheduled interviews. Or attempts to sneak into her Senate apartment building, or the palace to snap private pics that were distributed far and wide, even to planets she'd never heard of. The press and people had been consistently interested in her life, her views, what she did in her time away from the Senate and politics, suitors, lovers. Everything. They were relentless in their pursuit of information. And now that the planet was destroyed, she as well as the remaining Alderaanians were even more noticed, more prominent.

If they survived this fight - if the rebellion managed to take down the second Death Star. Those were big ifs, but not insurmountable. And what then? The Alliance would begin to rebuild a democractic government, possibly on Coruscant, or some other central, developed planet. She would be a part of that rebuilding. It would be expected of her. It was what she'd trained for her whole short life, politics and development and helping people. It was what she loved.

She also loved Han.

And that was something she had not expected to find in the rebellion. Nor had it ever crossed her mind that she might encounter someone here she was even remotely attracted to.

Lessons, deportment, tutors, events, government, trips. Not a lot of time for a princess, and then a Senator, to think of, to focus on love. Yes, she had had some suitors along the way, but she knew what those pretty boy princes were there for. Money. Connections. Power. Influence. An easy life, for a couple of them. They were nice, and somewhat entertaining, but she'd known when she met them who and what they really were. And they just did not interest her. _"You can parade the elite of the galaxies around here as much as you like. I'm not going to enter into an arranged marriage. I don't care how wonderful you think anyone is. It will never happen,"_ she'd said defiantly to her aunts, when she was seventeen and they were trying to prepare her for just such a merger. Thankfully her father had agreed with her. While the parade of men had not ended, the pressure had. Leia had felt free to make her own choice, in her own time. Which, she had decided at the time, would not be when she was so young. There was so much she wanted to do, and learn, unencumbered by the demands of a husband and family.

Later on, with the rebellion in its infancy, missions and development had taken all of her time and energy. The fancy suitors of the past were gone, tucked back away in their expensive palaces and estates. The rebellion - and therefore the Princess of Alderaan - was too messy and scary for them.

But not too messy or scary for Han Solo.

Leia turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, wrapping a soft, fluffy white towel around her torso and one around her streaming wet hair. She sat on her bed, staring at a holo she'd placed on the nightstand.

It was one of her and Han, dancing at some event in the cafeteria on Hoth. Luke had given it to her on Hoth, but she had stowed it away, being angry at Han and not wanting to see his face - so happy - grinning at her. Then a few days ago, after reading his letter, she'd ransacked her closet in search of this holo, hoping to the gods she hadn't thrown it out in a fit of pique.

Han had an arm around her waist, and she had one hand on his shoulder. Their other hands were clasped together, resting on Han's chest. Both of them were turned to the camera, grinning like loons. Leia wondered idly how much the two of them had had to drink that night, to be dancing together and actually looking happy about it. She smiled to herself, and reached out a finger to touch Han's face.

They would find him. He would be well. The rebellion would overthrow the Death Star. She would have Han in her life, and a future full of work and challenges and happiness and love. No matter if people thought he was low class and she was a slut for being with him. She had lost so much that she loved, she refused to lose anything or anyone else. She absolutely refused.

Lying down on the bed, Leia closed her eyes. The picture had reminded her of another dance. One on the Falcon, on the way to Bespin and unknown terrors. One that was private. She focused her mind on the memory, the details, recalling the feeling of the press of bodies against each other. Kisses that were sweet, then hot.

She fell into sleep, pulled into the dream of a dance.


	8. Bespin Dreams - Leia - The Dream Ball

** Author's comment: I like to have the movies on when I write this story, and I've got ESB on right now. God, young Harrison Ford is so kriffin yummy in the trilogy. What a man! Sigh . . . a girl can dream . . . :-)**

**And now back to our originally scheduled story. **

* * *

_* * * On the way to Bespin * * *_

_Her Royal Highness Princess Leia Organa, formerly of Alderaan, and now of wherever the Alliance posted her, stood at the sink in the galley of the Millenium Falcon washing dishes. _

_It was a task she had never before engaged in prior to joining the Rebellion. Why would she have, when there were maids and housekeepers to attend to such things? Her time was spent in lessons, with tutors, and later in political study and trips with her father, before she joined the Imperial Senate. There was no time for such domestic cares, and she never needed to learn. She could always hire this sort of thing out. _

_But now, here on the Falcon, there were only three beings eating. Three beings continually dirtying some amount of dishes. And it was not fair, nor proper, of her not to pitch in. She did not shirk her duty, no matter how dirty or distasteful the task. _

_It wasn't such an awful thing to have to do, she mused. The dishes themselves were barely dirty from the dinner Han had prepared for the two of them. Any leftovers had been neatly packed up and stored in the cooler, the cookery scraped almost clean by the cook himself. _

_She really had very little to wash. As she dipped her hands in the warm, soapy water, Leia found herself wishing there was more. A big stack of pots and pans with sticky, dried on stew - something that would take a good hour or so to clean - would suit her just fine._

_Washing the dishes, she had found over the past couple years, did not require a lot of attention or energy. It was a task one could complete while in contemplation of other matters. _

_There was no shortage of things to think about. Where was Luke? Where was the fleet, had everyone got out safely? Would the Mon Calamari still join the rebellion, as they had been poised to do just prior to the evacuation on Hoth? Many things to worry on. But there was one matter that stood out among the rest, one as big as life she simply could not stop thinking about. _

_Han Solo. _

_And what she wanted with him._

_Sighing to herself, Leia absently scrubbed a plate. Their first kiss - in the circuitry bay, in the belly of that enormous space slug - had occurred a few days ago. Interrupted by C3PO, she'd unwillingly pulled out of the pleasure of Han's hot, soft lips on hers. And then she'd run away, as much as anyone could run in that part of the ship. _

_Ever since then, she'd wondered what would have happened between them, had the droid not interrupted the kiss at that precise moment. She didn't know, didn't know what Han wanted. Inexperienced with male attention, with pretty much anything to do with men and love and sex, she wasn't sure how to read him._

_But wasn't it more important to know what she herself wanted? It didn't really matter what Han wanted, if she didn't want the same thing. _

_Who was she kidding? After over two, almost three years of knowing Han Solo, being around him on Yavin and then Hoth, going on various missions, who was she really kidding? _

_It was long past time for the truth._

_She'd wanted that kiss in the circuitry bay to go on and on and on. She'd wanted to know what Han's hands - large, rough textured yet surprisingly gentle - felt like touching her skin in places other than her cheek and neck. She'd wanted to put her hands on his chest, his arms, anyplace he would let her. _

_The aborted kiss had led to a particularly vivid dream about the two of them the other night, naked together in bed doing things Leia had only read about. She'd suddenly woken, sweating, feeling sparks all up and down her body. Feeling her breasts swell and her nipples harden. _

_If she was really honest, she'd had those kinds of thoughts and daydreams about him back on Hoth. Han Solo was just so - so - compelling. Yes, that was the right word. You had to look at him, when he entered a room, when he spoke up an a meeting. Wherever he was, no matter what he was doing, there was an energy about him that said "I'm my own man" and it pulled you in, made you want to be around him. No matter how infuriating he was, and he was damn good at making her mad. _

_But - did she love him? She just didn't know. _

_Leia cared about Han, and the evidence of that was plentiful, if she looked at past events and had the courage to see. Sharp and angry words to him on occasions when the Falcon had been days, and weeks late returning from missions were a cover for her worry about him. Then there were the times - a very few - when he'd been hurt or sick and she'd felt compelled to go see him on the ship, or in the med bay. He'd had some bad cuts after a few missions they'd been on together, and they both had been surprised to find Leia gently washing and tending to his wounds. _

_And that terrible, terrible night - just last week! - when he'd left on a tauntaun to go find a missing Luke. She hadn't seen him go, but had spent the hours milling around the Falcon with the droids and Chewbacca, her head in her hands, praying for a miracle. In the morning, when she'd heard his voice on the com as they flew back to base - she'd wished she was alone and could simply collapse with tears of relief and joy._

_No, she just didn't know if what she felt was love. But she definitely wanted more kissing. Oh yes! Yes, yes, yes, in a thousand languages yes!_

_She'd caught herself staring at him, several times over the past few days. Staring at his lips, his hands, daydreaming a bit, hoping he didn't notice what she was doing. But they'd locked eyes a few times. She knew he'd caught her, knew exactly what she wanted. But he'd said nothing at all, done nothing. Made no advances as he had the other day. And, much to her surprise, he had not given her his trademark smirk. Just a small smile, and a look she could only interpret as encouraging. _

_So what was she to do? Ask him to kiss her? Just go up to him and kiss him? That thought made her shudder a little. How could she do that? Did women just do that with men they wanted to kiss? "What a mess," she muttered to herself. All her years of training in politics, speech making, negotiation and diplomacy were no help here. No help at all. _

_"What's a mess, Your Beautifulness?" came a low, familiar voice from behind her._

_She couldn't help it. Leia shrieked and jumped, turning around from the sink to face Han Solo. He was leaning casually against the far wall of the galley, hands in his pockets, giving her an appraising look. _

_"How long have you been standing there?" she gasped, placing a hand to her chest to settle her thundering heart. _

_"Long enough to notice you were completely lost in your own thoughts. I called your name twice and you didn't seem to hear me at all."_

_"Sorry." There was plenty of space between them, but Leia felt trapped somehow. His energy, his presence, was so vital, so strong, it was a wonder the ship didn't split in two trying to contain it. How had she not sensed him coming in? Her stomach started to twist, and she felt her throat tighten. _

_"How are things coming? Can I help with the dishes?" He walked over to the sink, standing close to her. "I'll dry and put away," he said, picking up a towel._

_"Thanks." _

_For a few minutes, they stood at the sink. One washing, one drying. There was silence between them, but to Leia it seemed oddly companionable. Like they did this all time, which was true when they were on the Falcon. Han often cooked, and she, or she and Luke, cleaned up. _

_"I was wondering what plans you had for the rest of the evening," he asked quietly, stepping over to a cabinet to set plates away. Leia couldn't help but turn to watch him move, his back to her, his long lean body easily reaching up to the top shelf. _

_She wanted to see him, see his body with her own eyes. Touch him. Rub her hands on the skin of that hard, muscular chest she'd felt through his shirt. Not tonight, not yet, but some time._

_"I, uh, hadn't thought that far ahead." Kind of hard to think at all when you're ogling a man's ass and fantasizing about what he feels like under his clothes, Organa, she thought to herself as she turned back to the sink._

_"Would you care to join me in a drink, Princess? I've got some good music we could listen to. Or dance to, if you'd like."_

_He sounded so nice. No teasing. Leia turned to look at Han, scanning his face carefully. She wasn't used to simple pleasantries from him. There had always been a surplus of barbs and smart remarks between them, even nasty insults. Just what was going on?_

_"Why are you being - so nice?" she asked tentatively. "That's not usually been our way."_

_ "Things change, Princess," Han replied simply. The way he was looking at her made her feel twisty again, as if he had something on his mind. Her. "Times change. If you care to join me, I'll be at the holochess table."_

_Leia stood there watching him, confused, as he took the bottle of Corellian whiskey from its place of honor, and with two glasses, and strode out of the galley. _

_Was she making too big a deal about this? Why couldn't she just enjoy the moment, without analyzing it to death? This wasn't a contract to negotiate, or a strategy to be planned out, requiring hours of simulations of the various outcomes. This was just Leia and Han, a man and a woman who had at least some level of attraction between them. Why couldn't she just go with it?_

_The sound of music suddenly rising from the lounge area made her mind up for her. Leia scrubbed her hands clean and free of any remnants of dirt, smoothed her hair, and walked down the short hallway. _

_"You're quicker than I anticipated," Han remarked, giving her a look of surprise as she entered the lounge._

_"Times change, Captain," she retorted, appreciating it when he chuckled a little. "You're not the only one who can be unpredictable. And maybe I was tired of that hot galley." Leia walked slowly toward the table, deciding she liked the idea of acting in ways Han would not expect. "I don't recognize this song," she said, listening closely to the lyrics and the smooth, flowing melody. "I can't quite make out the words. But it sounds pretty."_

_"It's an old Corellian classic. About summer evenings, dancing with fireflies. Enjoying life as it comes."_

_"That sounds lovely." Leia stood right next to where Han was sitting and boldly held out her hand. "I'd like to dance, if it isn't too much of an imposition, Captain Solo." _

_For a moment Han just looked at her, his golden eyes wide and wondering. "I honestly didn't think you'd go for it," he said, smiling at last. Then he took her hand firmly in his, and walked her away from the table. _

_"There's a traditional Corellian dance that goes with this song. I think you'd enjoy learning it. But we'll save that for another night," he said, pulling her close to begin a simple step, an easy sway back and forth. "We do have quite a number of nights ahead of us."_

_"We do indeed." Leia bit her lip to hide a smile. She was going to surprise him again. And it actually felt fun to do so. "At the risk of expanding your already oversized ego, yes, I would enjoy that. You are quite a good dancer. You would have had all the ladies at balls on Alderaan lining up to dance with you."  
_

_She wasn't making it up just to play with him. It was true. She'd been at hundreds of balls in her short life, and danced with far too many men who had trouble with even the most basic of steps. Who were not only unpleasant to look at, but unpleasant to be so physically close to. Body odor. Bad breath. That was not the case with Han. He was very handsome, in a rugged way. He absolutely knew what he was doing on a dance floor. And he smelled good. She leaned closer to get a whiff - some kind of cologne, clean sweat, and a faint scent of engine grease. The smell of him that she had noticed many times before, and liked. _

_Han was frowning down at her. Then he grinned, his eyes twinkling in pleasure. "Okay, sweetheart. Who are you and what have you done with Princess Leia?"_

_They laughed together, and Han picked her up off her feet for a moment to swing her around. The gesture made her feel alive and carefree in a way she hadn't felt since long before Alderaan was destroyed. "Things change. And I'm not lying. You might have embarrassed yourself at a ball, but not with your dance moves."_

_"I'm glad to know you approve, Princess." And this time, she got the trademark smirk and sarcasm. _

_They moved easily together through the lounge, not talking, just enjoying the music and the moment. At least, Leia was. It was something she had never been very good at - slowing down, shutting off her mind, her worries, focusing on the here and now. There was always some problem to solve, some plan for the future to address. For the next month, there was little she could do. She had no access to her work, and they could not take the risk of trying to contact the fleet, not as long as the hyperdrive was broken. She had no choice but to take this trip - and this man - one day at a time. One moment at a time._

_"Tell me about a royal ball. You must have gone to many of them."_

_"What!" She hadn't been paying attention again, lost in her thoughts. "Oh, yes. Hundreds. And so many of them were unbelievably tedious and boring."_

_"It sounds like you needed some scoundrels there to liven things up."_

_Leia felt herself blush and shiver a little, thinking of the circuitry bay. They weren't as physically close right now as they had been then. Han was holding her and touching her in ways that would be quite correct and proper at a ball. Still, she couldn't help but notice how warm his hand felt on the small of her back, even through her shirt. And how strong and competent he was, deftly leading her around and around the room in a few simple steps. She smiled at him, surprised with how much she was enjoying this, how good it felt being in his arms._

_"Actually there were some scoundrel type fellows at a few dances, but my father kept me away from them. I always had a list of dignitaries I had to dance with. A very long list." She closed her eyes in annoyance and shook her head, listening to Han chuckle at her expression. "It was a good night if I made it through without having my feet trampled, or getting buzzed from the liquor fumes coming from the awful breath of some of those jerks."_

_"If that's a good night at a royal ball, I'd love to know what a bad one was," Han laughed. _

_Leia looked at him and sighed dramatically. "One corporal had too much to drink, and he threw up on my dress. Pretty much all over the front of my dress." _

_She smirked at the look of horror on Han's face as he just stared at her for a moment."Well. Well." He blinked at her and gave a small laugh. "I think we can definitely improve on that for our impromptu dance. No trampling, no getting buzzed, and I promise I won't throw up on you."_

_"Then so far, it's a good ball." _

_The Corellian song had ended, and now she heard a waltz she recognized from dances on Chandrila. As she'd anticipated, Han expertly switched from one dance style to another, twirling them through the lounge. "So, Princess, what makes a great ball? Your standards for good are pretty low, I'd say__."_

_"A great ball? I - I don't know." She had to think about that one. "My dream ball was the only great one I ever attended, I guess."_

_"A dream ball?"_

_"Of course. I used to dream of having a ball according to my own rules. There would be no dancing with any drunken dignitaries. Being able to dance with someone I really liked, who liked me for me, and not my title or my money. Who knew the steps very well and had the confidence to lead me, and not need me to lead us." She sighed in pleasure at the picture in her mind, one she'd imagined for several years. "Dancing all night with that same person, talking, laughing, enjoying ourselves. We'd dance away from prying eyes, and sneak a few kisses. That was my dream ball." _

_Leia noticed the waltz had ended in the same moment she realized - with the exception of kissing - her dream ball had come to life. Here in the lounge of the Millenium Falcon, out in the middle of space, far, far away from civilization. She met Han's eyes, and could tell he knew it, too. "That sounds nice," was all he said, looking at her intently, holding her close in a way that made her tremble a little. Her gaze dropped to his lips, and she felt the familiar flutterings of nerves in her stomach. _

_"I - I think I - could use that drink right now," Leia stuttered, finally breaking away and walking over to the table. She kept her eyes on the bottle as she poured __herself two fingers of the spicy Corellian whiskey. Sipping it slowly, Leia felt the sparkling golden liquor warm and settle her stomach._

_She watched Han as he poured himself a glass of whiskey, double what she'd served herself, and sat at the table, looking back at her. He sipped his drink slowly, never taking his eyes off her. It was like he was reading her, seeing through her. She didn't like the scrutiny, not at all. Leia sat on the other side of the table, staring at the bottle of liquid courage._

_"You know, Princess, we had quite a few of your dream ball elements just now." Han's voice was low and rumbling, stirring something deep inside her. _

_"Except the kissing," she blurted out, then gasped at her own audacity._

_"Except the kissing," he agreed quietly. "I can tell you want to, Leia. __You've been staring at me on and off for days, probably more times than I've caught you. And I'd guess you're bubbling over with nervousness right now."_

_"What!" And now she finally did look at Han. He had the heel of a black boot propped up on one knee, and an arm draped along the top of the seat. She'd seen him sit in that pose many, many times. In meetings, on missions, at Sabacc games on the bases. It never ceased to amaze her how deceptively casual he looked. As if he didn't care at all about the situation at hand. But right now she knew he was quite interested._

_"You do want to kiss me. You can't hide it from me, sweetheart, you're as transparent as glass."_

_There was no teasing, no smirking, no dares from Han. His voice was soft, even kind. He sat very still, across from her, just watching her, waiting for her to decide and make a move. _

_It was a like a ship stuck in a tractor beam, being pulled in by a force too great to counter. She could not resist the intensity, nor did she want to anymore. Leia stood on shaky legs and walked slowly over to Han, her eyes never leaving his. _

_She struggled to keep her voice even. "I think I - can I sit in your lap?" She hadn't realized she wanted to until the words were out. _

_"Certainly." Han put his leg down. "I'm all yours, Leia."_

_"I've never done anything like this before," she whispered, sitting slowly, carefully, on his strong thighs, twisting a bit to get in a comfortable position._

_"There's a first time for everything." His voice was low, husky even. It made her glad, he was not so cool and calm as he appeared. Han was just as affected by the anticipation of this kiss as she was. _

_"Don't take this the wrong way." She looked into his eyes, and lifted a hand to gently trace his lower lip. Leia could feel Han's arms go around her, supporting her. His hands felt so hot on her back she thought she would burn from it._

_"Of course not." The closer she got to him, the more his eyes mesmerized her. She felt like she was under a spell, and the only thing to break it was to close her eyes and kiss him. _

_Gods, it was as good as it had been the other day. Better, now that she knew they could not be interrupted._

_Gentle and soft at first, the kiss was tender, even sweet. Leia could feel Han responding to her, but holding back a little, allowing her to take her time and set her own pace. But she could still be unpredictable, even now. She wanted more, and pressed into him to take it. Mouths opened more, tongues touched and danced, Han's hands pulled her closer, crushing her breasts to his chest. _

_She felt light headed from the sparks lighting inside her. That tingling from her dream was real now, creeping up her spine, starting her on a slow burn. She heard the sounds of his moans and her whimpers, and realized, pulling away from the kissing to catch a breath, how excited they both were. Her chest was heaving, her face felt hot and flushed, her body trembling with arousal. _

_"For a first timer, you're a quick study, Princess," Han quipped. But his voice gave him away - hoarse, a little ragged. She lifted her head to look at him, thrilling at the desire she saw glowing in his eyes._

_"More," she ordered, reaching for his face. _

_"More? You're so demanding, Your Worship, but in this case I don't mind at all," he laughed. _

_"Shut up and kiss me, flyboy."_

_And they dove in again, this time holding nothing back. She was kneeling between Han's legs now, pressing into his torso. His hands were caressing her lower back and bottom, stroking firmly while his tongue mimicked that movement with hers. And then suddenly his mouth pulled away to nip at her neck, finding places she didn't know existed that, when touched, made her whole body shudder. "Oh gods," she gasped, eyes closed in delirium, moaning and tilting her head just so, to make sure he had no trouble driving her wild._

_And then, slowly, ever so slowly, the intensity receded, and Han pulled back to look at her. His eyes radiated desire, but his face was serious. "Princess," he moaned softly, "We need to stop. Any more and you're going to be the death of me."_

_"Oh." Leia was disappointed, she didn't want the overload of sensations to end. Kissing Han, being kissed by Han, made her feel more alive than she could ever remember. How would she fall asleep now, with this buzzing in her blood? But it had to stop, for tonight, anyway. The place their desires would lead to - them together in his bed, glowing and naked, Han introducing her to the ways of making love - were unbelievable in a dream, but she wasn't ready to make fantasy reality. "You're right, I guess. And I'm really not ready for what comes next." _

_"It's okay to not be ready. I don't ever want you doing something with me that's uncomfortable for you." Standing, Han held out his hand to her. "May I walk you to your chambers, Your Highness?"_

_Leia responded to his sweet smile with one of her own. "Of course you may, Captain Solo."_

_Arm in arm, they walked slowly down the hall to her guest quarters in a relaxed silence. She didn't feel a need to ask what was between them, to nag Han into making a declaration. He hadn't given her the words, but someone who genuinely had feelings for her wouldn't force her, or even try to seduce her. Han had made her feel safe to make her own decisions. She knew he would respect her. And that was powerfully arousing in its own way. _

_They had come to her room. Gently Han put his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. For a minute they just stood by the door, staring at each other with an intensity that made Leia wish she was ready for more. Then Han cleared his throat, looking a little nervous. _

_"I want you, Leia. I'd love to be able to take you to bed tonight. But I-" here he stuttered, greatly surprising her as Han Solo never stumbled over his words - "I care about you. I won't ever pressure you to do what you're not ready for. Never." Leia stood there frozen, in awe of his words, as Han raised a hand to tenderly caress her cheek. Then he bent to give her the lightest, most gentle kiss. Lips just barely touching. Nothing like the encounter of minutes ago. _

_"Good night, Leia," he whispered as he stepped away from her. And then Han turned and strode down the hall, not looking back, his spacer boots clacking on the metal gratings._

_She was glad he was gone, that way he could not see her slump against the wall and slide down to sit on the floor. Her legs could no longer support her. _

_That man! _

_With his beautifully gentle actions, and honest admission of his feelings, he once again proved to be unpredictable. And safe. And incredibly, amazingly attractive. _

_How in the galaxy was she going to sleep tonight?_


	9. Where Are You?

Four weeks had passed since the Millennium Falcon left Home One.

Thirty days they'd been trying to follow Boba Fett's trail.

Seven hundred and twenty-seven standard hours had passed as they'd raced to find and free Han Solo.

Over forty-three thousand seconds they'd been at it.

Thus far, their efforts, so determined and so worthy, had been in vain.

Chewbacca sat in the co-pilot's chair in the cockpit, staring out at the stars. It was his turn piloting and keeping watch, having worked out a schedule with Lando for the times when they were in for a long flight.

Everything in the ship was working just fine, as smoothly as the old girl ever did run, he guessed. The hyperdrive, its prior malfunctioning having cost them so dearly - if it had worked, there would never, ever have been a need to go anywhere near Bespin - was operating perfectly now. He wished it had operated half as well weeks ago. Han would not be gods knew where in the galaxy, frozen in carbon, as Boba Fett led them on a torturous path through the galaxy. They would not be here now, desperately trying to find the trail, and failing with every attempt.

He let out a sigh. If wishes were credits, he would be rich beyond anyone's imaginings.

After leaving Home One, they really hadn't been sure where to start. Boba Fett was known all over the galaxy in any number of unsavory locales, both in the Outer Rim planets as well as the Core systems. He might decide to take Han somewhere and wait before delivering his prize, in the hopes that Jabba would raise the substantial bounty even more.

Eventually the bounty hunter would find his way to Tatooine, and Jabba's palace. But if they could intercept Fett, get the cub back before he got into the Hutt's clutches - they had to try.

So they'd headed to Ord Mantell, where Han had, just months before, missed being captured by Fett by mere minutes, to get news. It was quite a tricky business. People knew who he was. There was no mistaking Han Solo's Wookie friend, and there was no way to effectively hide him. Lando, who was far less well known, had gone in disguise, using an alias. And somehow he had gotten the information they needed without creating much suspicion.

Chewbacca hated this sort of thing. He hated, had always despised the fact that Han's shipping was not on the up and up. That, to get jobs that actually paid well enough to run the Falcon, they had to resort to maneuvering in the layers of the underworld. The black market. Creatures like Jabba the Hutt and his ilk, the kind that no decent person should deliberately go near, for any reason. Once this was over, once Han was back and unfrozen and healthy, he would have to put his foot down. They needed to go legitimate.

But until then, he and Lando had to improvise. And since they had been following the bounty hunter everywhere and missing him by hours, or even minutes, they were changing course.

They were going to Tatooine. There they would wait for Boba Fett to come to Jabba.

He hated Tatooine, hated the heat and the sand and the smell. But flying everywhere and having nothing to show for it was not working. Eventually Boba would have to make a delivery. Conferring with Luke Skywalker, who was flying in from Dagobah, the three would meet at the home of the late Ben Kenobi. And there they would plan the next steps.

Praying to the Maker that it would all go well - no one would get hurt or killed, Han would survive being frozen - he thought of the princess.

He hadn't seen or spoke to Leia since the day they'd left Home One weeks ago. The communications systems would work, but they could not take the risk that the contact would be intercepted and the Rebel fleet discovered by its enemies.

How was she doing? How was she holding up? He'd promised the cub he'd take care of her - what if the despair was too much for her and she tried to hurt herself, as she'd done at least once on Yavin? Han would kill him if anything happened to her.

But Luke, who was in more regular contact, said she was all right - sad, and scared, but hopeful. Not looking for ways to end her life.

With a wry grin, he had to admit that, in all this mess, the hyperdrive not working and forcing a slow trip to Bespin had had one, and only one - benefit, he supposed one could call it.

Forty days on the Falcon had accomplished what three years on Rebel bases had not been able to do.

It had put his cub and the princess in a place where they could - and had, thank the Maker - realize their feelings for each other.

For him, knowing Han Solo as well as he did, it had been clear to him for a long, long time that his friend cared for Leia. Chewbacca couldn't pin down when, precisely, his smuggler friend had fallen deeply for the feisty princess, but certain actions on Yavin had surprised and pleased him. Han's careful watching of Leia, the time he spent with her, making sure she wasn't still trying to kill herself as she had one tense evening. A couple times they'd found her drinking alone at the mess hall, weeping over Alderaan. And instead of taking her to her rooms, Han had brought her to the Falcon and tucked her in the captain's cabin, he himself sleeping in a chair in the room, or on the floor. "She's gonna need some help when she wakes up," was the only comment he'd made. But Chewbacca knew what was brewing.

His cub was in love. The head over heels kind, the kind that made you go out of your way - well out of your way - to make the other person happy.

And the princess seemed to like him, too, no matter what she said. If she truly found Han annoying, why then did she seek out his company? Or come to dinner when he invited her and Luke to the Falcon? Or help Han with repairs on the ship at night sometimes, when she couldn't sleep and needed something to settle her. That horrible night on Hoth, when Han had gone out after Luke - he could tell Leia's worry was not solely for the young commander.

So it was confusing to him, to watch the verbal spats and insults, even nasty comments flow between them. Why the kriff did Han take so long to do anything, if he wanted her? Humans were just so, so frustrating sometimes.

Now they knew they loved each other, no matter what had or had not been said in that freezing chamber.

And then they were separated.

Maybe they would be apart forever. Maybe they wouldn't find him after all. Maybe Jabba would unfreeze Han and then kill him, and they would be too late.

_Stop, you can't think like that! _he thought to himself, holding back a primal scream of rage_. Stop! Just stop. _

He had to find his cub. He _had to_. It was his duty, and should it take the rest of his life, he would carry out this mission.

He must not sink into despair. People were counting on him. People needed him.

"Cub, where are you?" he said out loud to the utter blackness of space. Instead of a scream, it came out like a wail. And he hated himself for it. But Chewbacca could not help it right now.

"Where are you?"


	10. Claiming Han Solo

"Your Highness. Good morning."

Leia looked up from her table in the cafeteria, startled by a deep male voice greeting her.

She wasn't expecting anyone to join her for breakfast. She'd chosen this table - in the back, tight in a corner - to be alone. To think, to work, to write. Her Alliance data pad sat to her right, next to a journal she'd found recently in her closet. The kind you wrote in with a pen. No typing or scrolling. Han had given it to her, when they were on Hoth, after a long spate of nightmares had left her reeling and exhausted. She'd written in it before, and now again, finding the writing of the words of her fear helped to lessen the feeling.

She didn't want her visitor to see the journal, it was far too personal for anyone's eyes but her own. Stuffing it into her her bag, she looked up at the man standing there and gave him something of a smile.

He was Lieutenant Colonel Nichos Horada, of the Horadas of Alderaan. An old family line, wealthy, highly placed in the social classes of the planet. His father had been friends with her father. Older than she was by about eight or nine years, he and his family had been invited to her debutante ball, and many other balls. But she'd known him longer than that.

Tall, broad and muscular, he had wavy dark hair and a pair of brilliant blue eyes. Of an age with Han, Nichos had that same kind of confidence, even arrogance, the kind that permeated the air around him. You could feel it coming off him like a wave of heat.

He definitely was not an unattractive man. On Hoth, most of the women - and there weren't many of them to begin with - had really wanted to date him. Or Han. If there had been a vote for the most desired Rebellion fighter on Hoth, it would have been either Nichos, or Han. And they both knew it.

Nichos, or Nic as he preferred in more informal company, had been in the Imperial Navy, just as Han had been. Perhaps they were there at the same time - she had not explored the details of either man's records. He was, she knew from experience, a man very much in tune with order and law and propriety. Following the rules, whether they were from the military, or society. That was Nic's way.

He could have gone into the Imperial Navy at a higher level than private. He had university education, he could have started as an enlisted officer. But he chose to start at the lowest level, being one who followed all the rules. It was impressive in a man, though, to see him work his way up, follow his ambition to the next level, and the next.

She couldn't fault him for his bravery or courage in deserting the Empire for the rebellion, as so many others had done. It must have been so horrible to be in the Imperial Navy at the time Alderaan was destroyed. That was what had sent Nic flying to the arms of the rebellion. He'd lost his entire family, and many friends. Nic was one of so many Alderaan soldiers and officers finding their way to the Alliance in the weeks and months after her home was destroyed. Reeling from shock and grief, unsure of their future, but knowing they could no longer stay with the Empire.

What she could, and did, fault him for, was a sense of entitlement. To her, to Princess Leia Organa.

He seemed to think because they'd known each other on Alderaan, because their fathers were friends, that he had some sort of proprietary claim on her. He acted as if he was her big brother, her judge, and her jury all rolled into one. And she didn't like that at all. Never had, never would.

She recalled greeting him when he first arrived on Hoth, helping him adjust to the base, as she did for anyone else who was new and needed help. Introducing him to Han and Luke and Chewy, telling him they were her friends.

_"Princess," he'd said later, when the three men had gone back to the Falcon for drinks and Sabacc, inviting both her and Nic to join them, "I must speak. It's not a good idea for you to be seen with that smuggler and his Wookie friend."_

_"Why not? I've known them for over a year. They rescued me from the Death Star. We've gone on missions, some which could have turned out very badly, but for their quick thinking and good instincts, we're all still alive. I trust Han and Chewy, Nic. I trust them with my life. I hope they will always be my friends."_

_"Yes, yes, I'm sure they're very brave." His dismissive tone and the rolling of his eyes annoyed her, but she said nothing. "But they're criminals, and not fit friends for a princess."_

_He sounded just like Mon Mothma. Proper every single second of the day, no matter who was or was not watching. "I'm not just a princess, Nic. I'm Leia. I'm me. For the first time in my life, I have people who are true friends, who don't see the princess first, last, and always. Or see me as someone they can gain something from." She was getting mad now, and decided to let it show. Her tone sharpened, her eyes narrowed a bit. "I don't care if they are criminals or not. They are still my friends." She blushed suddenly, wondering what Han would say if he could hear her now, defending him to this man. "I'm going along to have a drink and play some cards. Are you coming?"_

_And of course Lieutenant Colonel Horada had not come along. He gave her a look of anger and disappointment, and then turned on his heel and stormed away._

"Your Highness. I just wanted to say I'm glad to see you looking well, after your experiences. It must have been so awful for you."

Leia focused on him, pulling out of her memories of the past. And then she frowned a little. Looking well? Looking well? She wondered just whom he was talking about. Because she hadn't looked like this since after Alderaan was destroyed. Her skin did not have the creamy glow it had on the trip to Bespin. The tone was pinched, tinged slightly grey. She had dark circles under her eyes from night after night of restless sleep. And she was losing weight. She could see it in her face, her cheekbones were becoming more prominent. She jerked slightly, thinking about Han, and his letter. What would he say if he could see her now, trying to keep herself from sliding into despair? Not taking care of herself. Fort the millionth time, she wished he was here.

She squeezed her hands together tightly. She could not have a melt down now, not in public.

"Thank you, Lieutenant Colonel," she said calmly. Like a princess, like she'd been trained. Even though he was an idiot. Even though he made her feel like she wanted to punch him. "There were many frightening experiences."

"Flying through an asteroid field, that must have been terrifying." He pulled out a chair and sat down, not even asking if he could join her. "And then, being stuck on that ship with Han Solo for so long. That must have been very trying for you. He can be a very difficult person to be around."

"Yes. That is very true," Leia replied absently, smiling to herself. If only Nic knew just how difficult - but she would not be sharing any of those details.

"I - I had heard that you were going - to go after him, to rescue him."

She looked at him in puzzlement. The only people she had mentioned that to were Mon Mothma and Carlist. There were many rumors flying around about what was going on, perhaps he had heard one and was trying to have her deny it.

Leia pondered for a moment. She could spin him some story, hide the truth. But why bother? People would know soon enough what she was going to do. She loved Han. She had no shame about it. Why waste any time pretending, or hiding from the public? She'd done that enough on Hoth - pushing her feelings for Han down, running away from them. There was no energy left in her to play games with anyone.

She was going to blindside her countryman. More than once. For a moment, she felt a little sorry for him, that she would be turning his world, his view of her, completely upside down. But that could not be helped.

"I don't know whom you heard that from," she said slowly, feeling a familiar twist in her belly, "but that is true." Leia watched as Nic's eyes grew wide and he started to open his mouth. But she went on, not allowing him to speak, dropping another bomb on his head.

"You see, Captain Solo and I became lovers on our journey to Bespin."

And yet one more surprise.

"So, yes, I will be taking a leave of absence from the rebellion to find him. And when we have returned to the fleet, it is my desire and expectation that Captain Solo and I will resume our personal relationship."

Leia slowly felt herself relax.

She had taken a stand. For him. For them. For the future Han said he wanted with her. For the future she'd been imagining they would have. What she would do anything to make real.

She'd publicly claimed Han Solo for her own.

It was strange, the effect such a pronouncement, such an action had on her. The nervousness she'd felt just seconds ago had completely dissipated. In its place was a sense of strength, of such power it astounded her.

There was such surety in her now, that had never been there before. Not about Han, not about politics, not about anything. She knew, as if she could see it in some fortune teller's bag of tricks, that everything she wanted and needed would come to be. No matter how long it took to find and rescue Han, they would get him back. No matter what ill effects came from the hibernation, he would heal, he would be well. No matter what happened with the rebellion, they would find a way to be together.

Nic was looking at her in stunned silence. He had not said a word since she'd hit him over the head with the news she had taken the smuggler as her lover.

Finally, he managed to speak. "I see." His tone was tightly controlled. He looked as if he was fighting himself. She could feel anger rolling off him, but he was trying to keep it hidden.

"Well," he said, standing up, looking down at her. "I guess there's nothing for me to say. You've made your choices. And you'll have to deal with the consequences of them, just like anyone else." As he had before on Hoth, Nic strode away, storming out of the cafeteria.

Unlike her conversation with Mon Mothma, she knew Nic would not be able to keep this news to himself. He was too angry, he would have to let off steam. Vent to someone about the foolishness of the princess. He'd looked offended, even outraged at her choice to be with Han. As if it was a personal betrayal.

The word would spread like wildfire around the ship, confirming what had likely been rumor and speculation about the flight to Bespin.

And Leia did not care.


	11. Reflections - Lando

You could never tell, out in space, if it was day or night.

It was always unrelieved shades of black, the intensity of the color dotted with stars and planets and moons.

For Lando, it was the middle of the night. The dark of space reflected his mood.

He was supposed to be fast asleep. Resting so that he could relive Chewbacca in a few hours. Take up the pilot's seat in the cockpit for the eight or nine standard hours of his shift.

But dreams had woken him up, as they did almost every night these past five weeks. And now he could not fall back asleep.

It was always the same dream, always the same place, the same people.

_They were in the freezing chamber. Han, Leia, Chewy. Storm troopers filled the room. Darth Vader stood off to one side, talking with the bounty hunter Boba Fett. _

_"What's going on, buddy?" Han asked him in a low voice. _

_"You're being put into carbon freeze."_

_And he had no choice but to watch, in horror, as Han was lowered into the pit. He could not miss the way his old friend's eyes locked with the young, beautiful princess. Han hadn't replied to her desperate "I love you" in the same vein, but you could tell by the look on his face, in his eyes, that he loved her too. _

_He felt a fresh wave of guilt watching them, as neither one looked away until the last possible second._

_The levers were pushed. White steam rose out of hissing machines._

_The machines pulled up the newly frozen block. _

_And Han wasn't inside it._

_He was. _

_Fully awake, his body burning ice cold from the pain of the freeze. It felt needles were being pushed into his skin. _

_He couldn't see anything. He couldn't hear anything. He needed to scream, but nothing could come out. _

_He couldn't force himself pass out, to forget for even a short time the horror of being trapped in such a way. _

_There was no way to measure the passage of time or space. _

_How long would he be like this? _

_How long?_

Lando sat up and turned on the bedside light, shaking his head to clear it. He could feel the thin night shirt he wore clinging to his back. Once again, he'd sweated his terror through the cheap material.

The dream was fitting, he supposed. It was easy enough to analyze.

He'd set Han up, in the worst way possible. And his guilt over it was something he could not escape. It filled his mind during the waking hours, as he sat in the cockpit watching the controls. It came out through this dream, every night the same thing.

"Damn it all, what was I supposed to do?" he exclaimed angrily, hitting his fist on his knee. "Darth Vader shows up and I'm supposed to tell him to take a hike? For God's sake, I helped get them out of there, helped Leia and Chewy escape the Empire! Doesn't that count for something?"

Sighing in exhaustion and frustration, he got out of bed. "And all I had with me was the clothes on my back."

Yes, it was petty, he thought as he rummaged through the guest cabin's drawers in search of dry clothes. A man's life was at stake, and here he was, alive and well and grumbling about his abandoned finery.

But he was exhausted. He hadn't had a good night's sleep in weeks. "I'm not even bunking in the captain's cabin, out of respect for you, old buddy. And it looked a hell of a lot nicer than this one."

That wasn't quite true.

He _had_ wanted to bunk in there. Han's room had a bigger bed, as well as a surprisingly nice fresher that he did not have to share with a hairy Wookie.

He'd gone in the room, looked around. Sat in there for a little while.

And he could not stay.

He didn't belong there, and the room knew it.

The captain's bunk was a living thing. Filled with scent and spirit and memory, wanting its rightful occupants. And while it waited, patiently, for the lovers to return, it remained empty. It would allow no others.

It was the strangest sensation, to feel like he did not belong in that space. To even feel like he was being forced out physically. No one would ever believe him if he told them, so he kept the experience to himself, and claimed the smaller guest room instead.

Leia must have had the guest room for a while.

Weeks ago he'd found some personal items of hers in a couple drawers. Some jars of cream and lotion, a tube of lipstick.

And a picture.

Not knowing what to do with it, he'd set the picture on a shelf across from the bed. Once in a while, a mood hit him and he would take it down, holding it carefully in his hands to study the faces, the body language. Tonight such a feeling was upon him again.

The frame held a shot of her and Han, sitting together in the lounge of the Falcon. She was sitting on his lap, her arms around his neck, her head resting on his shoulder and facing the camera. Han had his arms around her, holding her close.

There was such a look of peace and happiness on both their faces. If he was to choose a name for this picture, it would be "there's no place I'd rather be than right here and right now."

Every time he looked at the two of them, their obvious joy startled him.

Two people in love with each other. Really, truly, in love.

When they'd first arrived in his city, he knew who she was. Always, always a sucker for a beautiful woman, regardless of her rank or social standing, the Princess of Alderaan was no less beautiful in her dirty white jumpsuit than she was in the red and silver outfit she'd worn a few days later.

He had wondered at the time, and still did, how in the nine Correllian hells a guy like Han Solo had managed to get such a woman interested in him? Because she _was_ his. Leia had made her feelings very clear by taking the hand or the arm Han offered, or by standing close to the smuggler, or refusing the private tour of the city Lando had offered her because Han could not come along.

It was a punch in the gut, he reflected again, as he had many times since, to watch her face, see the expression in her eyes as she and Han realized what was going to happen in the freezing chamber.

He'd felt like some dirty voyeur, observing their intimate moment.

And was completely stunned to find himself - for the very first time in his life - wishing that _he_ could find a woman who looked love at him, said love to him, in the same way Leia had that day. He'd felt as if he needed to give up the rotating lovers, the women he liked, and whom liked him, that he didn't love but was happy to bed, to wine and dine.

Whenever he looked at their faces in the picture, he felt cold.

Loving no one and having no one loving him.

Empty.

Scared that he would always be alone.

Irritated with himself, tired of introspection and insomnia, Lando growled and set the picture down hard on the shelf. He pulled his wet shirt off and tossed it on the floor, pulling on a clean one.

No matter how little sleep he'd actually had, it was time to get out of this room, away from his thoughts.

They were ripping him to pieces.


	12. Reflections - Luke

Luke Skywalker sat in the living room of Obi-Wan Kenobi's house, head in his hands.

Now that the plan was set, the pieces put in motion to get Han Solo back, thoughts and feeling he'd kept in check for over three years washed over him like the waves on oceans he'd only heard Leia talk about. Was that what it felt like, to be swamped, completely overwhelmed by something so much larger and stronger than you were?

It was. Gods knew sometimes what he could feel when he really tapped into the Force. The pain of the galaxy was a huge black hole that would devour him if he let it. If he hadn't had some training before fighting Vader in Cloud City, the power of immense grief and confusion might just have killed him.

He desperately needed someone to talk to. Thus far, no one who would understand had been available.

Leia had been there for him, but how, _how_ could he tell her about Vader? His father? How could he add more sorrow to her already enormous load? Vader was responsible for Alderaan's destruction, for torturing Han and putting him in carbonite. And for her to have to learn that her good friend carried a tainted bloodline?

No. He could not tell her. Not now, maybe not ever.

Rubbing his face, he wished for Yoda. For the millionth time since Vader sliced off his hand and gave him the worst news anyone in the galaxy had ever received, he wanted his living Jedi master.

Wanted to apologize for running off. Wanted to lay his troubles at the old master's feet, to relieve himself of the solitary burden of confusion and pain he'd been carrying for weeks and weeks.

He wanted solace, and comfort.

He wanted answers.

He _needed_ answers.

But Yoda had not been there, when Luke had arrived on the steamy planet a couple weeks ago.

Pushing into the Force, he'd felt the master's potent signature. Thankfully Yoda had not died in his absence.

So where was he? Didn't he know how much Luke needed him right now? Couldn't he feel Luke hurting? And Ben - his Force ghost popped up at his own will, in his own time. He could not demand the dead Jedi make an appearance.

Luke got up and paced the small living room, asking himself the same questions he'd been asking from the moment he was healed enough to think.

Why, why, _why_ had they not told him? Yoda knew Vader was his father, he had to.

And Ben? What did he know? Luke could not feel anything but complete certainty that both had known - and that they knew much, much more about his birth and adoption than he'd ever been told.

He thought back to when he was a boy, meeting Ben Kenobi for the first time. Luke had squirmed under the intense gaze of the man, not sure as a nine year old boy what to make of it. Not sure what to think of the man, who lived alone in the rocks of the desert, barely making an appearance anywhere else on that wretched desert planet. But now, now it was clear - Ben had been on Tatooine to watch over _him_. Keep him safe from discovery by a father who wanted to corrupt him.

_If you were them, would you have told?_

That same thought had crept into his mind several times a day since he'd been rescued by the Falcon.

How would he have reacted? What would he have done? Would he still have left Dagobah, racing to Bespin to try to save his friends, knowing the monster he had to fight was his own father?

And what about a mother? In the middle of his horror, that too had come to mind.

Who was she? Was she still alive, as Vader was? If not, how had she died? Had Vader killed her?

All his life he'd been told his father had been Anakin Skywalker, a Jedi knight who had been killed by Darth Vader. Now he knew his father had turned to the dark side of the Force, which Yoda had so strenuously warned him against.

So who had his mother been with? The man his father had been once? Or the mechanical creature he'd chosen to become?

Had she been willing? Had she cared for the one with whom she had created life? Luke hoped desperately she had loved him, that, at one time, his father had been someone worthy of the love of another. Because it was almost too much to bear to think about what he was now.

He had so many questions, and no answers. No one to ask who knew the truth.

_Yoda. Ben. Where are you?_

Once the mission was over, and Han was on his way to the fleet with the rest, Luke would go. He would go to Dagobah again, seek out Yoda. Beg forgiveness. Get the whole story.

_I need you. _


	13. The Delivery

"Be careful with that!" Boba Fett hissed through his green helmet. "Jabba will not want his prize damaged."

The ugly Gamorean guard snarled at him, but stopped his jerking and jiggling of the carbonite block in which Han Solo remained in perfect hibernation.

After several weeks of flying around the galaxy, showing his prize to some, sharing the unbelievable story with others, Boba finally had enough and wanted his bounty. He'd let Jabba know shortly after leaving Bespin that he had captured the smuggler, and said he would deliver him in time. Jabba had not been pleased initially, but when Boba sent a holo of just what state Han Solo was in, the Hutt seemed quite surprised. And impressed.

_"He has been frozen in carbonite? And is still alive? How did that happen?" Jabba asked in confusion._

_"It is quite a tale, involving the Empire, and the Rebel Alliance. It would take too long to tell you now, but the assistance of Lord Vader was invaluable in Solo's capture."_

_"I'm eager to hear your story, Boba. Having Solo in such a state gives me an idea - a very brilliant idea! Once I examine him with my own eyes, and make sure all is as it should be, I may have to increase your fee beyond the current 100,000 credits." The Hutt licked his lips in anticipation. "Send the technical information about the block to Bib Fortuna."_

_"I look forward to our meeting, Jabba," Boba nodded, ending the transmission._

Truth be told, he was quite relieved to be finished with Solo. He should have taken him to Jabba right away, instead of bragging his way from this system to the next. The stories he'd told had enhanced his already powerful reputation as a ruthless bounty hunter, but they had also encouraged other criminals to try to take his prize from him. As he followed the guard down the dark hall to Jabba's throne room, Boba knew he needed to take a little time out from his work, examine his ship and make repairs. There had been a number of close calls, with other hunters. It was the superior workings of his ship and crew that got them out of the line of fire more than once. Dealing with those threats on a continual basis was wearying on him. A rest, here in the protected halls of the Hutts' enclave, would be just the thing.

"Ah, Master Fett! You bring us your prize! Jabba awaits you." The eerily pale Twilek Bib Fortuna, Jabba's slimy majordomo whom he'd always viewed with suspicion, greeted him, ushering him and the carbon block into the throne room.

It was many months since Boba had been in the palace. Nothing much had changed in the throne room. Jabba still held attendance from his resting place at the front. Dancers and slaves and musicians still worked their way around the room, entertaining and serving the filth of the galaxy who enjoyed Jabba's patronage. No, the only thing that was different were the faces. He had heard, in his travels, of the death of this crime lord or that, and was not surprised to see different creatures in place of old ones he'd known.

"Ah, Boba! Finally my prize arrives! Bring Solo to me," Jabba demanded from his throne.

Boba walked behind the floating block to Jabba, and bowed. But the Hutt required no comment. His excitement to finally have captured the smuggler he'd been after for so long shone in his large green eyes. "This is magnificent, Boba. Absolutely perfect," Jabba salivated.

"What do you plan to do with him? It's none of my concern," Boba corrected, seeing Jabba's eyes narrow. "But I am curious."

"Over there. I am putting him on display." Jabba pointed with a stubby arm, and Boba turned his head to see an alcove that had been used in the past for seating. Now there was a rectangle carved out in the center of the wall - the same size as the block of carbonite. A white light shone down on the empty space, waiting for it to be filled so all could see Captain Solo's fate.

"Everyone who comes to my palace will see what can happen when you cross me." The Hutt gave an evil chuckle. "Han Solo will remain frozen on that wall for as long as I want. If I get tired of it, I will unfreeze him and feed him to my rancor. But I think he will be there a very, very long time."

Boba had to agree this was a brilliant idea. Gossip was rife in the underworld. It would not take long for news of the Hutt's trophy to ripple through the galaxy. There would likely be people coming to Tatooine just to see it for themselves. Jabba's reputation, like his own, would increase, attracting more lucrative opportunities - as well as those who wanted to topple him and take over his already highly profitable crime syndicate. But the Hutt was crafty, not easily fooled. Jabba would, Boba knew, take all the advantage he could from this situation. And so would he.

"Now, Boba, some refreshment for you and I." He gestured to Bib, who left the room. "Solo is worth a lot to me. I am prepared to up the bounty from 100,000 to 250,000 credits."

If he was not wearing his metal helmet, Jabba would have seen his eyes pop, his mouth gaping open. Boba had been prepared to start negotiations with 50,000 more, as he wanted and expected 25,000 to 30,000. Never had he imagined the Hutt - who was so frugal in many cases - to increase the bounty by 150%! It was incredible. Any repairs he wanted made to Slave I could be done - he could buy a brand new ship! Increase his weapons, and purchase more sophisticated technology. The Hutt was waiting for a reply, but Boba needed to calm down, not sound so eager.

"That seems fair," he said in a reasonably flat voice.

"Good! Let us drink to your good work and my new prize."

_Let me drink to a fat credit balance, _Boba thought to himself, smiling broadly, as he raised a glass of wine in a toast.


	14. Tears

**And another entrance from everyone's favorite father-type Rebel general . . .**

* * *

The lateness of the hour meant nothing on a ship as large as Home One. Built by the Mon Calamari for long pursuits, it could comfortably hold up to two thousand human and other life forms and droids, three to four thousand uncomfortably, as Admiral Ackar had described it. General Riekkan walked the halls, passing various beings - some ending their evening shift, some beginning their very early morning shift. All hands were needed to keep the ship operational and ready for battle.

Groups of techs stopped and saluted him, but Rieekan just grunted and nodded, stalking away knowing he was being rude, but ignoring the fact for the present. His mind was not fully on his surroundings. It was on Leia.

He stopped walking for a moment, thinking his comm had gone off again. But it had not. The most recent message in a flurry of unexpected transmissions he'd received still flashed on its screen.

_Luke Skywalker: Please help her, Sir. She's hurting badly, I can feel it. _

He wasn't even sure where he should be looking for her, on the endless maze of the ship. It was still so new to all of them, he didn't know if she had a place she liked to go to be alone here. If they were on Yavin 4 or Echo Base, he would have a pretty good idea where she'd be. Scanning the messages he'd received from Luke in the past twenty minutes, he tried again to see if the words held a clue to her whereabouts.

_Luke Skywalker: General, I urgently need your help._

_Carlisst Rieekan: Are you hurt? Is the mission in trouble?_

_Luke Skywalker: No, sir. It's Leia._

_Carlisst Rieekan: She's fine here on Home One, I saw her this morning._

_Luke Skywalker: No, sir. She's not fine. She's in a lot of pain. _

_Carlisst Rieekan: Heading to her quarters now. Did someone injure her? Have you talked to her?_

_Luke Skywalker: I didn't talk to her. It's not a physical problem. She's not in her room._

_Carlisst Rieekan: Do you know where she is?_

_Luke Skywalker: No. But it's a small room, with a large window. She's all alone. That's all I can sense of her space. _

_Carlisst Rieekan: All right. I'll find her._

_Luke Skywalker: Please help her, Sir. She's hurting badly, I can feel it._

A small room with a large window. A small room with a large window looking out to the stars. There were likely quite a few rooms like that - but what ones would Leia know? Pondering for a moment, he turned to take a route he knew well - to the quadrant of offices and meeting rooms set aside for High Command. She might be there. She might even be in his office.

Because it was Leia, he had not taken the time to press Luke for more information. With the commander out on a mission, Han Solo trapped in carbon hibernation Gods knew where, and the Wookie Chewbacca following his trail, Carlisst realized Leia was quite alone.

All her friends were gone. Her planet, her loved ones. Some were dead. Some were still alive, but not here to help. Not here to talk to. So he put aside his questions for Luke - and he had several, one of which was how in the galaxy Luke knew she was in trouble if he had not spoken with her - to focus on finding his old friend's daughter.

Passing the med bay, he wondered what had happened to make Lelila upset. She seemed to be managing Solo's absence with some stability. Leia was still able to do her job - although she did look confused and distracted at times when he saw her in the cafeteria. At other times she looked lost in a daydream, but happy. He could only assume she was recalling memories of her lover.

For that sensational news had flown around the ship a couple weeks ago. Leia's public revelation that she and Solo were in fact lovers was still a hot topic of discussion. He'd heard various opinions on it, from the furious - Mon Mothma had looked ready to spit fire - to the awestruck looks of wonder on the faces of some young female techs. And of course there was the locker room mentality from some of the pilots - young and old - who had no respect for the princess or Captain Solo. Carlisst grimaced, recalling the words he'd had with some flight commanders about the rudeness of their squads. While he could do nothing about thoughts, he could - and did - do something about crude words and gestures.

Had someone said something to her about it? Some idiot - and the Rebel supreme leader was not excluded from that assessment - making cruel remarks? Leia was sad, and scared for Han, but she still had some spirit in her. To make public what had happened between her and the smuggler on the journey to Bespin took guts. A lot of guts, because she had to know she would gossiped about by almost everyone on the ship.

He couldn't think it was some jerk's rude comment that would cause problems. Lelila could defend herself verbally, and quite well too. So what had happened?

Having finally arrived at his destination, he quickly palmed the scanner and the door beeped open. A small room with a window. Slowly he walked through the hall separating office from office.

"Leia? Are you here?"

The unexpected sound of someone crying pulled him up short.

There she was, sitting on the floor of the smaller conference room, her head in her hands. Her tiny body shook as she sobbed in a way he'd never seen her. He was reminded of the many times he'd cried, and sometimes still did, alone, thinking of the loss of Alderaan.

Utterly broken.

"Lelila," he said gently, walking slowly to her. "Leia. What is it?" She was crying so hard, she seemed not to have heard him. He sat beside her and rested a hand softly on her back, in the hope of calming her a little so she could talk to him.

"It's - it's Han," she wept, not looking at him.

"You haven't - had word of him?" Carlisst could barely manage the question as he felt his stomach clench in dread. Was Han Solo dead?

"No. It's in the review," she whispered, turning her swollen and tear-stained face to his. "They all died. They're all dead."

"What review? Who is dead?"

"On the table." And she turned away from him to face the window, crying quietly.

He hadn't noticed the data pad on the table when he first entered the room, but he did now as he settled into a chair to look at it.

The page on the screen said: _Medical Case Review 98447 - Possible Effects of Carbonite Hibernation on Humanoid Classes_

Carlisst glanced at Leia, as he started to realize her upset. But he scrolled down the page, and continued to read.

_"This is a medical study of effects of carbonite hibernation on the various classes of the humanoid population, specifically those who survived the de-thawing process. As of the date of this study, 100 humanoids were known to be frozen in carbonite, for various reasons. Only 30 of these survived the process. Of the 30 that survived the freezing process, only eight survived the process of de-thawing. These eight survived for various lengths of time, ranging from four months to five years. This study looks at the eight who survived de-thawing, their physical condition prior to freezing, and their physical condition after thawing until passing. Patients are referred to as case numbers to protect identities."_

"The med bay droids sent it to me," he heard Leia say as he tried to process what he'd just read. "I had to know what could happen to Han, so I could help him recover. And he'll die just like they did." She choked out the words. "We'll rescue him - just to lose him."

It broke his heart to hear her so despondent. She had been through so much pain and loss in the last three years - being tortured, her planet and his brutally destroyed in the blink of an eye. Then she had found love, but had that love taken from her so horribly. Leia was now faced with the possibility of never finding Han. And her words could be true - they could find him, and then lose him to complications from the carbon freeze.

How could he help her, without offering false hope, without insulting her feelings? Carlisst sighed deeply. "You cannot know that for certain, Lelila. There could be more humans in the galaxy that survived than are tracked in this review." He kept reading, hoping for something to show Leia that Han's death was a possibility, not a guarantee.

"Did you see this part, my dear?" he asked quietly as he read aloud. _"Note that this review is by no means conclusive or predictive. Not all classes of humanoids are represented. The numbers of those that are listed are far too small to determine that those classes of humanoids will consistently react in this manner. As will be detailed in the review, the physical condition of some patients prior to freezing was poor and possibly a reason they did not survive long after being de-thawed. Some patients did not receive adequate medical care after de-thawing until it was too late._

"Leia, I think you just can't know what will happen," he said slowly, softly, turning to her. "Not until it does."

"It's so hard," she wailed, facing him. He could see her eyes, wet and swollen and red, filled with despair. "When Alderaan was destroyed, it almost killed me. But there was no uncertainty about it. The planet was gone, everyone was dead, and no way to bring them back. Now this! We may never find Han. We may never be able to rescue him. If we do, he may or may not die." Tears slid down her cheeks. "I'm so tired of not knowing anything. I'm so afraid to dream now, but I do. And I wake up in a cold panicked sweat, even if my dream is a happy one of Han and me."

He got to his feet, holding out a hand to Leia to pull her into a hug. Carlisst could feel the poor child tremble as she rested her wet cheek against his shirt. "The only hope I can give you is to look at the rebellion," he said into her hair. "We can't know what will happen. We know what we want to have happen. And we are working as diligently as we can to achieve it. It is no different than you and Han. You want to rescue him. You want him to be well. So you must focus on how to get what you want. Do the work that needs to be done, one day at a time."

"I know you're right, but I'm too tired to think," she sighed, shaking her head. "Too tired and heartsick right now to have any hope."*

That was not what he wanted to hear. Frowning, Carlisst realized he would need to keep a closer eye on Leia than he had before. If she had no hope, then would she - no, he didn't want to think about that. Not now. Not ever. "You look exhausted, my dear. You need to rest. Let me help you to your quarters."

"No, please. I don't want anyone to see me like this," she whispered. "Could I - could I sleep on the couch in your office? Just for a little while?"

"Yes, of course. I will find you a blanket. And I will be back in five standard hours to wake you. All right?"

"Yes, sir."

* * *

Four and a half standard hours later he found her, still deeply asleep, curled up on his couch the way she had done as a child in her father's study. Lying on her side, hands tucked under her chin, knees curled up in the pose of an infant. In those easier, happier days, she'd slept with a small stuffed doll clutched in her arms.

In those days, his friend Bail Organa was alive and well, deeply in love with his wife and charming little girl, working hard to for the people of Alderaan. Back then, Carlisst himself could not have imagined being more happy than he was, with his family and career life.

Nor could he have predicted the growth of the Empire, the destruction of his planet, the subsequent demise of his wife and children and grandchildren. He could never have imagined the shock, the denial, the pain that would always be there until his final breath. There were only two things that kept him from taking his own life, as so many of his fellows had done. His unstinting hope in the rebellion. And the promise he'd made to Bail, just weeks before the planet was gone, to watch over and protect Leia as if she was his own daughter.

He pulled a chair over to her, watching her sleep. It scared him to no end to have heard her say she didn't have hope. He could not give her that. She had to find it herself, within herself.

He closed his eyes and said a silent prayer that Leia had the strength somewhere inside to find and keep some hope for Han, hope for the future. Without it, what was left?

* * *

**Author's comment: Note I am not a medical student or a medical anything. I imagine Leia would want to know everything she possibly could about what could happen to Han once he was unfrozen, and what treatments he would need so she could prepare. If you recall near the end of ESB, she is tending to Luke in the med area of the Falcon, so she must know at least some basic medical info. This is my story, and I'm sticking to it - and not worrying too much about canon or if my medical review is how a medical review (I assume such a thing exists) would really be done.**


	15. Han - Images

If he had not been notorious around the galaxy before being frozen alive in carbonite, Han Solo certainly was now.

In the few days since Boba Fett made the most lucrative delivery of his career, holos of the illuminated rectangle swept through the shady underworld of the galaxy. Of course, the pictures were followed very closely by all kinds of rumors and commentary.

Some said, boastfully, that Solo had gotten exactly what he deserved. Of course, these were often the people who competed with the smuggler for jobs, or played Sabacc against him - and lost. Or had had a girlfriend or wife cheat on them with the virile Corellian.

Others pondered the logistics of the capture. Boba Fett had made the rounds, talking up his prize and the bounty he was to receive. Even though no one had actually seen his capture until it was delivered to Jabba, Fett's reputation as ruthless, creative, and reliable gave little doubt that he really had done what he said he had.

Many wondered, in whispers to their fellows, what it was like to be in carbon hibernation. Did Han Solo know he was frozen? Was he aware, or was he sleeping, as animals did? What did it feel like? If he was unfrozen, what would happen to him? Would he be able to function again like he did before? Maybe the freezing would ruin his ability to satisfy the ladies. Or other things.

Crime bosses, however, wondered privately about the involvement of the Empire. So far the Imperials had left them mostly alone, staying out of their way, allowing the organizations to continue to prosper, even flourish, as people who would never have gotten involved in illegality found themselves needing to compromise their principles in order to stay alive. But that would not last long. Eventually the Emperor would come knocking, looking for a trade, some arrangement. And he would keep coming back, looking for more, and more, and more. Taking. Always taking. What did they need to do to solidify their future?

None of the gossip mattered to the man on the wall. He had no awareness of it.

He had no awareness of anything, really. No sense of the passage of time. No sense of his physical body. He could not see or hear or feel, but none of that mattered.

A partial dream state was all he knew, if he _could_ know it. Pictures flashed in his mind. Images he would be able to recall months and even years after he was unfrozen. Visions that, later in life, would give him a sense of deja vu. But at present, Han Solo had no awareness of the people or places in the pictures, and no feelings about them.

So many scenes of various stages of his life. Some played over and over again.

It was always the same man, together with the same woman. The man was tall and lean, with dark, tan skin. His hair, a kind of brown, never seemed to lay in one place.

And the woman. Smooth skin the color of rich cream. Large warm brown eyes. A faint tinge of blush to her cheeks. Long brown hair, flowing to her waist when it was completely loose. If Han could be aware, if he could know who she was, he would say she was the most beautiful, amazing woman he had ever known.

But he was just barely aware of the visions at all.

_The man and the woman sat in the cockpit of a spaceship. The woman's wet and dirty white dress clung to her as she stared at the man, while he pointed a long finger at her as he spoke. _

_A bright white hallway, the man and woman stood facing each other, frowning at each other and talking, ignoring the passersby._

_In a room of what must be a spaceship, the man came upon the woman from behind as she tried to twist some equipment. Once she was facing him, the man massaged the woman's hands, getting closer and closer to her, until finally their lips and bodies pressed against each other. _

_The two people, moving together in an open space, dancing with each other, smiling at each other._

_Naked together in bed, the man' straddled the woman's hips. One of his hands held both of hers over her head. The other hand looked impossibly large as it touched the woman's creamy breast. A faith sheen of sweat glowed on the woman's body as she tried to move beneath the man. _

_The man lying down on his back in a narrow bunk, frowning and looking sick, as the woman sat on the edge of the bed and cried._

_Standing in a forest, the wind rippling the surface of a nearby lake, the man held the woman close against him, her body shaking against his._

_The woman lying asleep in a bed, a tube connected to her arm, wires attached to her head where her hair had been shaved away. Cuts and abrasions marred her face and arms. The man sat in a chair next to her bed, holding her hand against his lips, tears streaming down his face._

_Sunset in a garden, flowers blooming. The woman standing near a stone statue, slowly tracing the lines of the face, while the man stood close by her, his hand on her shoulder._

It was lucky, very lucky, that Han Solo knew nothing but a dream sense of his visions.

If he knew where and who he was, if he had any awareness of his physical state, that knowledge, combined with the images he was seeing, would quite possibly drive him insane.

* * *

**Author's note - it's my story, and I'm sticking to it. :-)**

** In my story, Han can only sort of see things. He has no feeling about what he sees. He can't hear anything that would be said in any of these sequences. He has no judgment whatsoever about them - no sense of whether something is happy or sad, or tender or soft. He knows smiles and frowns, but that is it. **

**I have read other stories where he IS aware of being in hibernation and knows he can't move or scream or anything. What terror that would be! I didn't want Han to go through that - so he's not. He has other problems to deal with. **

**And yes he IS having predictive visions - although the forest scene could be inferred from Endor. **

**The other two visions are my own inventions, and should clue you in to what I have planned once Second Chances - which goes to the end of ROTJ - is done. But this will only be a 2 episode franchise. :-)**


	16. The Stench of Guilt

By the Gods, the smell of it was enough to bring a man to his knees.

He couldn't identify all the odors, but some were more recognizable than others. The cold grease of a thousand meals. Sour beer, reminding him of his younger days before he sobered up to play Sabacc with the high fliers. Something moldy, kest knew the palace never saw the light of day. Smells so different from the heady fragrances he had in his luxurious apartment light years from this desert torture. Scents far removed from the metal and lubricants on the Falcon.

Lando Calrissian, formerly the rich, womanizing, debonair administrator of Bespin, was now known as Kel Tamtek, a native of the seedier side of Corscuant and one of Jabba's newest guards. Dressed in worn leather pants and a simple blue tunic - clothing he would have scorned in his prior life - he followed his new supervisor on a tour of the palace. As he followed the creature, a tall Twilek named Marek, he did what he could to keep from gagging every time a new combination of stench assailed his nostrils.

Marek pointed out a door to the right, deep red and framed in shimmering beads of purple. The harem. A place he would have loved to explore, but since he desired to keep his head attached to his body, he ignored the familiar urge pressing against his loose pants. A light note of honey and an unfamiliar, but pleasant spice lingered on the air.

"The door locks from the inside. Don't get any ideas about trying to get in. Jabba shares his pretties, but not usually with the guards. If you're found in there without permission, you'll be rancor snack." The Twilek let out a sly, low chuckle, and Lando felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand at attention. It almost sounded as if Marek looked forward to seeing someone's demise.

They passed a stairwell, where the wet mold odor almost overcame him, it was that strong. Dungeons, perhaps? The rancor was kept below, he knew, from stories he'd heard in Mos Eisley. Jabba had a pit below his throne that he opened with the push of a button. Slaves and others who displeased him were said to be dropped into the pit, to await the long claws and sharp teeth of the beast who would pick their bones clean. He shuddered involuntarily, hoping against hope that meeting the creature up close would not be part of this rescue mission.

Luke had said, before Lando left for the cantinas at the space port, that this could be the most difficult part of the mission. Lando had to play a role, gaining enough trust to be allowed in the throne room. To be allowed to make changes to the guard lists. It wasn't the work of a week. It would be at least a month or more, they estimated, he would have to fit in, be convincing enough to move up in the ranks.

But first, he had to master the smells. Kest, if he did not, he would lose his lunch, and his job. Any chance at rescuing his friend, and laying some of his guilt to rest, would be gone.

"Come. The master has requested that all new staff and slaves see this."

Marek pulled Lando into the throne room. To his right was the stone dais upon which the Hutt slug normally lay. Today it was empty. Lando breathed out a sigh of relief. He'd never seen a Hutt up close, but he'd heard plenty of stories about them. He'd been grossed out enough hearing tales, what would happen when Jabba was here? What was it Luke had said in farewell a couple days ago, as they shook hands?

_May the Force be with you, Lando. You're going to need it. _

The odor in this room was harsh, but more pleasant than the grease and mold. It left a kind of metallic taste on tongue, something bitter needing alcohol to wash it away. And suddenly he knew, even before he laid eyes on it, what the Twilek wanted him to see.

The rectangular block of carbon was set into the wall, in an alcove dedicated solely for display. A white light shone down from above onto Han Solo's frozen face and body, illuminating the way the carbon had layered over him, turning him into a perfectly carved statue. The detail of his boots, the way his pants creased over his right thigh. The wrinkles of his forehead. The tortured grimace on his face.

Lando glanced to the right, seeing the winking orange and green lights that signified the body inside its carbon tomb was still alive. He let out a long shaky breath, not realizing until just then that he'd been holding it.

All the feelings he'd had in the freezing chamber that day rushed through him like a flood.

_Fear._

_Vader had done more and gone further that he'd imagined he would. If he would freeze a man in carbon, what else would he do? Lando had no bargaining chip to use against him, to stop him from doing whatever he decided to do. To him, to the people on Bespin. To Chewy and the princess. Lando couldn't do a thing about it. He was totally, completely powerless._

_Horror._

_Carbon freezing wasn't meant for living beings! When he'd first won the gas colony and taken over its administration, one of the ugnaughts had somehow had his hand frozen during repairs to the equipment. The screams of pain before he died were even worse than those from Han when Vader had him on the scan grid. How in the galaxy could Han survive it?_

_Envy._

_Even in her dirty white suit, Lando knew the woman who arrived with Han was something special. Creamy skin, full red lips, big brown eyes that pulled a man in and made him want to know everything about her. Finding out who she was - Princess Leia Organa of Alderaan - was surprising, but that was not nearly as much of a shock as it was to see that the princess was Han's. And he was hers. Watching them on the platform before Han was frozen - a passionate kiss, a desperate "I love you", eyes that never let go - he couldn't help feeling a pang of jealousy._

_Guilt. _

_As he knelt over the newly frozen form of his friend, his heart pounding in his chest like a thousand drums, he knew he would never be able to forgive himself if Solo didn't make it. His hands shook, touching the dials on the side of the block. He thought he might vomit - from the smell, from the twisting of his guts. But Solo was still alive, thank all the gods, he was still alive! Now all he had to do was figure out a way to stop the bounty hunter from taking Han, and to keep Leia and Chewy away from Vader. Because if the three of them fell into the clutches of their enemies, they were as good as dead. _

"Grotesque, isn't it?" he heard Marek say through the dissipating memories. "Boba Fett finally caught him on Bespin, after years of looking. Got him frozen in carbon for as long as the master wants it."

Lando nodded, saying nothing as he stared at Han. _Old buddy. We're getting you out of here. _

* * *

Later that night, he left the room he shared with another guard, walking outside with the excuse of watching the suns set.

Alone, just a few feet from the palace, Lando pressed one key on the comm device in his pocket. Just one key he and Luke and Chewy had decided would mean Han was there, and was alive. They could not risk having any message sent that might be found, no matter how cleverly it was encoded.

Luke would see it.

He would tell Chewy.

Somehow, he would get word to Leia, to relieve her worried mind.

Then the next steps of the plan would unfold. He still didn't know if it was brilliant, or crazy stupid.

Whichever one it was, Gods, he hoped it all would work.


	17. Fear

The blackness of space was huge, even as it was dotted with stars and moons and suns and planets. It was so large, so vast, everything paled in comparison.

But Luke felt his worry creeping, growing stronger as the hours passed. A challenge to the power of the black.

Sitting in the navigator's chair in the cockpit of the Millenium Falcon, he glanced over at Chewbacca, who was manning the controls from the captain's chair. They were almost three hours away from coming out of lightspeed, at the coordinates General Rieekan had encrypted for him before he left for Dagobah. There they would rendezvous with the Rebel fleet, staying a couple days to debrief, refuel, and collect Leia. Then the three of them would leave, heading back to Tatooine. To endless sand, to draining heat, to bugs. To coordinate the next move, while they waited for Lando's signal.

If the Wookie had had his way, they would not be going back to the fleet. They would not be going anywhere near the princess.

[I don't want her coming with us,] Chewy barked, for what seemed to Luke to be the thousandth time in the past week. [It's not too late to tell her no.]

"I know you don't want her on Tatooine, but we talked about this already, you and me and Lando," Luke argued, exasperated. "We all agreed, remember?" But the wookie growled low, a sound that would have scared Luke had they not been friends for what felt like a lifetime already.

None of them wanted Leia there. Not because she was not smart or talented or exceptionally skilled with a blaster and other assorted weaponry. Not because they didn't like her. They all did. Luke loved her like a sister. He knew Han loved her, but in a much different and passionate way. And Chewy had been asked by Han to watch over Leia just before he was frozen. Chewy had not wanted to leave her on Home One, so attached to her was he.

No, it was because she was beautiful. Stunningly so. Long silky brown hair. Soft creamy skin. Wide brown eyes and red lips, the effects of which were not diminished by dirty clothes or signs of fatigue. Even in his wounded state as they escaped Bespin, Luke had noticed the way Lando looked at Leia, once they had finally jumped to light speed and could relax for a moment. The man's eyes had roved over her petite body, clad in its unflattering snow suit. Luke just knew Lando was imagining peeling off the smudged material to see the treasures hidden underneath.

The beautiful girls always get the attention - of savory as well as unsavory characters.

[If something happens, if she goes in, and gets captured, Jabba will turn her into a harem girl! He always wants the most beautiful females he can find. He'll hit the jackpot with Leia! And then he'll share her with his buddies!]

"And if we don't bring her with us? You know she could fly an X-wing or another small craft and come to Tatooine on her own. She'd do it, too, you know how stubborn she can be. And she'd surprise us, and for sure get caught. Or she could get lost on the way and get picked up by the Imps. Or a slaver." Luke sighed, shaking his head.

Of all the issues they had discussed and agreed to, this troubled him the most. Even more than getting killed himself. What could happen to Leia, if they were unsuccessful in their quest. If the worst happened, and they were captured, he hoped they would all die together. But from Chewy's comments, and the rumors he'd heard growing up on Tatooine, he knew the worst for Leia would not be death.

He did not want to think about his friend as a harem girl. He did not want to see in his mind's eye a vision of a helpless woman, to be passed around a room of lust crazed males of all kind of species, unwillingly servicing them any way they desired, for as long as they wanted.

Was he a fool, to have declared himself so boldly to Leia weeks ago? _We're going to rescue him, and come back to the fleet. All five of us. I know it. _The Force was a powerful surge in him that day. But he didn't feel so confident now. The Force felt farther away than it had in a long time.

_What's wrong with me? Why is it so distant? _Luke wondered, rubbing his temples with his fingers.

Was it being back on Tatooine? He had not been on his home planet since the day he left with Ben and Chewy and Han, escaping bounty hunters and Imps alike. Since the day he was brutally orphaned, feeling guilty and useless as he stared numbly at the burned remains of his aunt and uncle. But they had not gone anywhere near the old Lars homestead, instead staying as close as possible to Ben Kenobi's house, where Luke felt calm and sure and grounded.

The thought shot like a rocket through his brain. _Picking up Chewbacca's __fear, you are. Making it your own, you are. The dark side, fear is! Feel the force!_

Luke jerked his head up suddenly, expecting to see his master materialize to admonish him. But there was only Chewy, glowering at him, dissatisfied with the state of affairs.

Stupid, so, so stupid! How could he have not realized what was happening?

Working with the Force opened one up to other beings. Thoughts could sometimes be heard. Feelings could be sensed until they become so powerful the Jedi would experience the same thing someone else was experiencing. Chewy was practically boiling over, upset as he was with the situation. Until Luke centered himself, he would be buffeted by strong emotions that were not his own. He would not be able to see what the next steps were.

"I need to step out for few minutes. Are you all right to fly?" Luke held up his hands as Chewy snarled at him. "Okay, okay! I'll be back," he said, hurrying out of the cockpit to the small bunk he had occupied for the past two days of the flight.

He sat in a meditative position, breathing as slowly as he could make himself. In and out, slow and deep. He started to feel lighter, the sense of fear began to dissipate. Visions began to appear - people, places, and things that made no sense.

Two men stood near each other, each holding a small bundle in their arms. One man was tall and broad, dark complected with short black hair. The other man was shorter, leaner, slightly tanned with very short cut blonde hair. There was something slightly familiar about him, but Luke could not place it.

He started as he saw one of the bundles in his vision move, a tiny fist waving in the air.

"A baby?"

* * *

**Author's note - The Yoda Speak translator is a ton of fun!**


	18. Not Who I Was Expecting

**Author's note: I am addicted to Harrison Ford lately. In his early, good movies, that is. Watched The Fugitive tonight, and Raiders of the Lost Ark a few days ago. Very nice. Very nice indeed. The Fugitive is not a nice movie, but I think he's very compelling in it.**

* * *

Alone in her suite on Home One, Leia stared at herself in the mirror of her fresher. In her sleep tank and shorts, she was ready for her bed. And she looked it. Dark circles under her eyes. Her skin was unhealthily pale and washed out. The hollows of her cheeks even deeper than a few weeks ago when she'd first arrived back at the fleet. Her appetite had increased a little recently, in spite of the less than savory output from the cafeteria, but eating more wasn't enough to counteract the effects of continual stress and worry.

_What would Han say if he could see me now? _

Sighing, she turned away from the unforgiving mirror and left the room. After spending the day researching a new mission, she felt exhausted. Maybe, just maybe, she would get a night of sleep without nightmares.

Was it too much to ask? Just one night of rest without the tortured reminders of the past, or whatever her feverish brain conjured up for the present and future? Could she never get a break?

It was always, always, about Han.

The platform at Bespin. His torture on the scan grid hours before his freezing. Then she might dream of a future where someone unfroze him and the process killed him. Or they unfroze him to torture him some more - and then kill him. Or, the worst outcome she could possibly imagine - getting him back, reuniting, finally, finally being able to make love, and then having him die from complications of carbonite freezing.

_I so wish I could turn myself off, like I've done to C3PO. Just for a little while. _

Leia jumped, startled by the sudden buzzing of her comm on the bedside table. Frowning, she picked it up. _Who wants me at this hour?_

There was a text in the small screen, from one of the commanders of flight control. _Please report to Hangar 15 as soon as possible._

She read it again, confused. She wasn't waiting for any deliveries. There was no mission in progress and set to return. Who was-

"Oh my God!" she shrieked, dropping the comm on the bed as if it was hot, live ammo.

Leia almost tripped in her hurry to pull on the pants and jacked she'd worn all day. She slid on her shoes and raced out her door, stomach churning with nerves and anticipation.

Her feet pounded down the hallways and around the corners of Home One. Leia vaguely sensed the curiousity of techs and staff she passed, but she didn't care what they thought. She didn't care if princesses weren't supposed to run like maniacs through a ship, or anywhere else, for that matter.

_Please let it be true. Please let him be here. _

As she rounded to the entry of the vast hanger space where all ships were kept, she saw Nic Horada and another lieutenant talking. Leia sped up, moving quickly away from his surprised glance and attempt to intercept her. No one was going to slow her down. Not even Vader himself.

But there was something that could, and did, stop her dead in her tracks.

The Falcon was there, docked and secured in Hangar 15. At the bottom of the ramp stood two figures, waiting to greet her.

And neither one was Han.


	19. I'll Stay

"He's alive?"

"Yes, at the time Lando saw him and commed me, he was still frozen and alive."

Leia put her head in her trembling hands and tried to breathe slowly. "Thank the gods," she whispered. "Thank all the gods."

They were sitting in the galley of the Falcon, the three of them. Luke and Chewy, freshly arrived from Tatooine, with news of Han and Lando, had wanted to comm her before arriving, so they did not shock her, but there was too much concern that a transmission from the Falcon might be intercepted by the Imps or someone working for them. So they'd simply arrived back at the fleet with no warning to anyone. That could not be helped. She was glad of some news, no matter how it arrived.

"Can we trust him?" she asked, raising her head to face Luke. "Lando, I mean. How do you know he won't sell us out to Jabba?"

Even though Lando had gotten them away from Vader, even though he'd spent weeks on the Falcon with Chewy, even though such a fastidious man as he was now posing as a guard in the palace of a Hutt - she didn't like him. She didn't trust him.

If she was really honest with herself, that had more to do with his too smooth flirtations when they'd met on Bespin. Lando had behaved exactly as so many of her former suitors had, thinking a few compliments and a brilliant white smile would turn her head his way. She'd never liked that kind of tactic. It always made her feel like she was being verbally groped. Being exhausted and stressed, Leia was in no mood to think rationally, to see Lando's actions the past few weeks in a better light.

[Yes, we can. He's got a lot of guilt over what happened,] Chewy said. [He will do anything to make amends.]

"How do you know?" Leia demanded, frowning. "Did you talk to him about it?"

[No, I didn't. But I can tell by what he does say and the look in his eyes. And look at his actions. He got us out of Bespin, left the place with nothing on his back. He ran around the galaxy with me the past few weeks. And now he's a guard for Jabba. Do you have any idea how nasty that place is? How awful it smells? The kind of things that go on there?] Chewy banged his hand on the table, startling her and Luke. [I begged the cub not to do business with a Hutt! I pleaded with him! I said it would be much more trouble than it was worth. And it is!] he warbled angrily. [Now you're in it, Princess, and you should not be! If the cub was here I might ring his neck, life debt or not!] And then, to her surprise, Chewy rose from the table and strode out of the room, howling the entire way.

Leia gaped at his retreating back, then at Luke. She didn't know what to say. She and Han had argued, fiercely, about his need to go back to pay off Jabba, but never once had she thought to bring up or blame him for the decisions he'd made that had gotten them all to this point. He chose to smuggle for Jabba. He'd gotten the money, but had not gone to pay off the criminal. For almost three years he'd put it off, until the incidents on Ord Mantell made it clear he could no longer ignore the bounty. But she couldn't find it in her heart to blame Han. She didn't have the will, or the energy. She just wanted him back.

"Chewy does not want you anywhere near this, not even on Tatooine," Luke said, with an apologetic tone. "I've argued with him about it several times. It doesn't make him less upset." He sighed, and closed his eyes. Suddenly, Luke looked as weary and tired as she felt. "I don't want you near this either, Leia. But you'd just steal an X-wing or something and show up on Jabba's doorstep if we didn't include you." He reached over and touched her hand lightly. "There's a lot to discuss, but it's been a long, long day for us. You could stay on the Falcon tonight and we could talk tomorrow." Luke paused, blushing slightly. "No one's been in the captain's cabin since Bespin. It's all yours."

Leia froze in her seat. Did she want to sleep in that bed, without him? Could she even handle it? She didn't think she could handle the long distance back to her suite. It seemed too far away for her exhausted mind and body.

"I'll stay."


	20. Bespin Dreams - Leia - Don't Hate Me

**Author's note: I have used some of the Star Wars "swear words" in prior chapters, but truthfully, I don't like them. "Kest" and "kriff" just are not working for me. So from here on out, I am reverting to the swear words I know and use and love.**

* * *

HLHLHLHLHLHLHLHLHLHLHLHLHLHLHLHLHLHLHLH

"Oh Gods," Leia gasped.

For a minute, she did not know where she was.

Having been staying in her suite on Home One for the past several weeks, she had become acclimated to the smell of it. Clean, almost to the point of sterile. Even the scents of her shampoo and deodorant and lotions weren't enough to make the the place smell more relaxed and comfortable. There were times the room felt like the medbay. It was slightly annoying, but she'd gotten used to it.

Sleeping on the Falcon was a much different experience. While the captain's cabin was not nearly as clean as her suite, it smelled normal. It smelled like Han. She could detect a faint trace of his aftershave still clinging to the pillow, the smell of clean sweat and engine grease and sex rising from the sheets. Even though the bedding had been a bit dusty when she'd first entered the room, Leia did not have the heart to run it through the auto valet. That would remove all trace of Han, and she could not bear the idea. So she'd curled up into the sheets and blankets and let exhaustion and memory take her.

Sitting up in bed, heart pounding from the dream she'd just had, she rested her head on her knees.

Was it too much to ask that she could have a happy dream of Han while she was sleeping in the bed they'd shared? Apparently it was, because she'd just re-lived what had been an awful scene between her and Han on the way to Bespin. Obviously they'd made up, since she had shared Han's bed - to sleep! - later that same night. But she did not like the memory. Chewy's anger at her being mixed up in the plan to rescue Han, his comments, reminded her of things Han had said that she'd forgotten in her pain and sadness.

* * *

_On the way to Bespin_

_She sat in the cockpit, staring out at the stars. She'd been doing that for hours the past few days, during her shift, hoping to understand, hoping for some insight to ease her aching heart._

_Was it something she had said?_

_Something she had done? Or not done?_

_Leia had no idea what was going on. All she knew was the man who had danced with her a few nights ago, who gave her her dream ball - the man who had softly confessed his desire and care for her, and given her the most tender, heart-stopping kiss - that man was gone._

_Han wasn't even acting as he had on Yavin 4 and Hoth - arguing and sparring with her, his eyes dancing with good humor or sparking with anger. No, he was a stranger. A version of Han she'd never seen before. Distant. Rude and curt the times she did approach him, which were lessening day by day. Avoiding her. God, he barely even looked at her when he did speak to her. Leia simply could not account for the change that left her feeling lonely and confused and hurt._

_The morning after Han had left her, trembling and weak-kneed, outside her quarters after their beautiful dance, Leia had woken from an amazing dream filled with exacting details. __She had been sitting in front of an engraved vanity mirror, wearing a low cut red silk nightgown and matching robe. She was brushing her hair. A wedding gown in a traditional Alderaanian style lay over the bed behind her. And then he came in, larger than life, wearing a fine white silk shirt and his Bloodstripes, looking as happy and content as she'd ever seen him. Han gently took the brush from her hands and pulled her to her feet. "Come outside, it's a beautiful night." And on the large balcony connecting to their suite, they held each other and watched the moon light up the nearby lake. "Happy Wedding Day, Mrs. Solo," Han whispered in her ear. _

_There was more to the dream than that - a lot more, much of it very steamy - but it hurt too much to remember the rest now that Han seemed bent on treating her as if she did not exist. She'd tried to ask Chewy, but her understanding of Shyriwook was too limited to know what he said. And in conversations she'd overheard between Han and Chewy, she heard Han say things like "I know what I'm doing," or "Stop with the comments, we've been over this." She had no idea if they were talking about her, the hyperdrive, or something else entirely._

_In need of a drink, needing to stretch her legs, Leia put the setting on auto-pilot and made her way to the galley. Her stomach did flip-flops on seeing Han there, his back to her as he poured himself a glass of Corellian whiskey and downed it in one gulp. _

_Without thinking, without a plan, the words just came tumbling out. "What's going on with you, Han?"_

_She watched as he froze in the middle of pouring himself another glass. He slowly set the bottle down. "Nothing. Nothing's going on." His tone was flat, lifeless as he answered her, still with his back to her._

_Feeling young and stupid, Leia pressed on. She didn't care if she seemed like some silly girl chasing a boy. She just wanted an answer. "You told me you wanted me, you told me you cared about me. But you've been ignoring me like I have some terrible disease. What is it you want?" __Leia had tried to keep the irritation and confusion from her voice, but it shone through anyway._

_And instead of a verbal reply, Leia stared, astounded as Han finished filling the glass and drank it down. _

_She tried again, feeling sadder and angrier by the second. "Did you mean any of what you said to me?"_

_The answer rang out. _

_"No."_

_Even though she expected it, she felt like she'd been kicked in the stomach. What she had not been sure of the night of the dance was made clear now. _

_Leia was in love with Han Solo. And clearly, that feeling was not reciprocated. _

_Was she a fool for believing his lies? Thinking he was sincere? She thought back to conversations she'd heard among the women on Hoth, talking about this man or that. A lot of what they had to say was that trusting most men's words was as good of an idea as trusting Emperor Palpatine._

_ So - she wasn't the first woman to be taken in by a smooth talker. Unlikely to be the last. It didn't make the feeling any less horrible. Tears welled in her eyes. She'd never thought Han to be so intentionally cruel, to prey on someone's feelings. She thought he was at least her friend. And all these years, what was he doing? Playing a game, playing a role? It didn't matter, she needed to get away from him. Right now._

_"You don't even have the decency to face me, you pathetic coward!" she sobbed, running out of the galley._

* * *

_"Leia."_

_A low voice startled her out of sleep. She turned in the navigator's chair and winced at the crick in her neck. How long had she been dozing?_

_Why, why had she not gone to her bunk after running from the galley? Instead, she'd ended up in the cockpit again, staring out at the endless expanse of space, crying. She must have fallen asleep and not remembered it. Leia closed her eyes and sighed. Her head ached, her face felt swollen, and her body was screaming from her strange sleeping position. _

_"Leia, are you awake?"_

_"Yes," she mumbled, keeping her eyes closed. She didn't want to look at him. "What do you want?"_

_"To apologize."_

_Leia's eyes flew open. Han Solo almost never apologized. She could recall maybe five or six times since she'd known him that he had ever told her he was sorry for something he'd said or done. Five or six times he'd been sincere about it, that is. She turned her head to look at him and was surprised to see the look of worry on his face, his golden brown eyes wide with concern. "Go on," she said. She would not make this easy for him._

_He swallowed audibly, keeping his eyes on hers the whole time. "I lied to you earlier in the galley. I've treated you badly the past few days. I knew I was hurting you the whole time, but I did it anyway. I'm sorry."_

_"Why? Why would you hurt me on purpose, Han? Haven't I been through enough the past three years?" Leia wailed, tears streaming down her face. She didn't care if he saw her cry. _

_"I thought it would be easier on you when I - when I leave - if you hated me." He looked away, but not before she could see the misery in his eyes. __"I'm no good for you, Leia. A guy like me is only going to bring you pain and suffering."_

_"Do you want me to hate you?" she asked sadly._

_"No," he said, finally meeting her eyes. "No, I don't." Without warning he reached out, and pulled her out of the navigator's chair onto his lap and held her as tightly as he could. Leia could feel his body trembling as he rested his head in her hair and breathed in her scent. "I need you, Leia. I need you like I've never needed anyone before, and it scares me so much."_

_For a few minutes they sat in silence, holding each other close. Leia could feel a wetness on her head, and knew Han was crying into her hair. "Please don't hate me," he whispered as he kissed her cheek. _

_"Please don't hate me, sweetheart."_

* * *

Present Day

_I'm no good for you, Leia._

_A guy like me is only going to bring you pain and suffering._

She rubbed her face and got out of the bunk, thinking about those words. At the time, she'd been too upset to think about what Han meant when he said he was no good for her. But he probably had been thinking of the incident on Ord Mantell, or having to go to Jabba and possibly be killed in the process.

It didn't matter. She loved him. She was going to get him. Now that they knew where he was, that he was alive, Leia felt more hopeful than she had in weeks.

She didn't care about the past, the choices, the mistakes. There was no point in dwelling on it. What she cared about was the future.

Pulling on some clothing, she headed out to talk to Luke and Chewy on the next steps. How they could bring Han home.


	21. No Rescue

He'd been waiting for an opportunity for an hour this morning, sitting at his usual table in the cafeteria, watching as people filed in and out.

Wedge nibbled absently at his toast, not caring how tasteless it was. His target had come in twenty minutes ago, and was seated near enough so he could see the progress made on his meal. Wedge Antilles, proud Corellian, was bold and reckless, but even he knew enough to give a high-ranking general enough time to eat his powdered eggs and faux nerf bacon before interrupting him and asking unexpected questions.

He could have gone to his superior officer, his lieutenant, and asked this question. But during the time on Hoth, there had been such intermingling of senior staff with lower levels - especially during Sabacc games - that Wedge felt comfortable skipping several steps up his chain of command to get directly to the source.

Satisfied with his own patience and the emptiness of the general's plate, Wedge slowly approached the table.

"General Rieekan."

"Commander Antilles. Good morning." The older man looked up at him with tired but kind eyes. "Is there something I can do for you?"

Wedge pulled a chair out and sat down, feeling a little nervous. "I assume you heard Luke Skywalker and Chewbacca returned last night on the Millenium Falcon."

"I did, yes."

"And that they found Captain Solo on Tatooine, at the hutt's palace, still in hibernation?"

"I heard that as well, Commander."

Rieekan was looking at him as if he knew the next question but was just waiting patiently for him to get to the point. Wedge took a breath and pressed on. "Has any rescue mission been discussed - or approved?"

The general sighed, and stood, not meeting his eyes. Wedge felt his stomach start to drop. _There's no mission. There can't be no mission_. "Come with me, Antilles, I think there's a conference room nearby we can use."

He quietly followed Rieekan out of the cafeteria, ignoring the greetings from some of the other pilots and commanders. Wedge was lost in his own thoughts. _How can this be? How can they do this?_

"Inside, Commander," the general said, opening the door to the conference room and ushering him inside. "Have a seat."

"General-" he began, but Rieekan held up a hand to stop him. "To answer your question, no mission has been discussed or approved. Nor will it be."

Wedge stared, shocked at the coldness, the curt tone of the general's voice. Had Rieekan and Han not been - well, not friends, exactly, but leaders who liked and respected each other? He could recall plenty of times on Hoth hearing them share stories and jokes, sometimes an ale or two while informally discussing mission options or their favorite activity next to Sabacc - flying. How could he just let Han go?

"But why - I mean -" he spluttered, then stopped. He didn't even know what to say or think.

"Captain Solo is not a formal member of the Alliance. He never signed up. That is one reason." Rieekan sat, facing him, looking less severe and more thoughtful. "But more, you have to assess risk and success. Should we send a squadron to rescue one man? What is the risk of other lives being lost? What is the risk that our other missions could be jeopardized? We aren't the Empire, we don't have endless resources."

"Han's my friend, General, and not just mine. I thought you liked him too! How can we just leave him there in the hands of that Hutt!"

"Believe me, Commander, I would go after him if I could." For a moment, Wedge thought he heard a break in Rieekan's voice. Princess Leia and the general were close. Everyone knew they had an almost father-daughter like relationship. _He would do it for her, to help her. _But the general quickly collected himself and pressed on. "I can't do that. And neither can you. We have to be practical, to do our jobs. The Princess is going, and that is a risk on several levels. It's taking almost all of my influence to allow her to go without being considered away without official leave and subject to normal military punishment."

"So there's nothing we can do."

"Your desire to help is commendable. You can go talk to Luke, see what they're planning, give them some ideas. Help make sure the ship's in good shape, especially since it'll be parked a while on that sandstorm hell of a planet. I'm allotting the Princess some medical, technical, and food provisions, so you can make sure those items are sorted and stowed carefully. That's it." Rieekan paused, and Wedge went cold at the look in his eyes. "But if you or anyone else sneaks off with them, that will be considered desertion and you will be put in the brig and subject to the full military trial process. Is that understood, Commander?"

Wedge flinched at the tone that was as harsh as a slap in the face. What choice was there? "Yes, sir," he replied quietly.

"That will be all, Commander. Make sure your squadron understands as well. You are dismissed."

There was nothing for it but to stand, salute, and leave the room.

The arguments made sense - only a little. But he didn't like it, and he didn't have to. That was the case with the military, ever since he'd joined. Plenty of orders he had not wanted to follow, some given by superior officers whose faces he would have liked to punch until they were black and blue. This was the worst of the orders. Leaving a friend, a stupendous pilot, a strong leader, out in trouble. It went against so many things he'd been raised to be, to do.

Loyalty to your friends and family. Help your fellow man. Stand fast in the face of danger.

And he did not want to admit that some ingrained values would be contradicted if he did what he wanted to do.

Keep your commitments. Lead by example.

He had a job to do - what he'd signed up to do over four years ago. He had people reporting to him, relying on him. He could not abandon them, and their missions, no matter how badly he wanted to help Han.

Wedge shook his head as he walked down the hall to the bay where the X-wing fighters his squadron flew were kept. He grimaced, thinking of how Hobie and Wes and Tycho would react to this news.

_Can't wait to tell the rest of the Rogues._


	22. Unexpected Demands

**Author's note - I did not think of any of that military stuff either that came up in Ch 21 when I watched the movies before. But - as my immediate family members who were in the Army, Air Force, and Marines would tell me - you can't just come and go as you please without consequences. I have not decided what Leia's consequences are yet, but she won't go to military jail or have any military trial, as Rieekan states in Ch 21. **

**I realize I forgot about Luke, who also does the same thing - takes off in ESB for Dagobah when he is supposed to be meeting the fleet. And then shows up in ROTJ after going back to see Yoda. But I will address that in a future chapter. **

**And on we go! We're starting to get into the AU stuff. **

* * *

Luke sat at the game table, untouched steaming kaf in front of him. He rubbed his eyes, trying to wake up.

Was it a normal part of being a Jedi, having strange dreams and visions appear to you any time they wanted? Because he'd dreamed last night, of those babies. Only this time things were different from the visions he'd had.

Having spent some time around his aunt's female friends as a boy, Luke knew that - most of the time - the arrival of a healthy baby was something to be happy about. But in his dream, the two men holding the babies looked somber, even sad. One of the men - the taller, dark haired one - was crying. Tears streamed down his face as he looked at the bundle in his arms.

This time, in the dream, he'd seen a woman lying on a table, her head turned to the side. She had long curly brown hair that was matted with sweat. Her face was red, her features twisted in pain. He did not recognize her, either.

Who was she? Was she the mother of the babies?

He sipped the hot, bitter kaf as he recalled the part of the dream that bothered him the most. Luke saw the two men again, holding the infants. They looked at each other for a long time. Then they turned and walked away in opposite directions, each still carrying a baby.

This was the part that had woken him from sleep, whispering, pleading "No." It felt wrong, all wrong, for some reason. He could not explain it, but he didn't want the men in the dream to separate the babies. Even now, the very thought of it upset him more than he cared to admit.

It was all so strange. And none of it made any sense. Luke didn't even know what the dream meant. Who were those people? Was this the past, something that had happened long ago? The present? Or a possible future occurrence? He thought one man looked vaguely familiar - the shorter blonde haired man - but he could not figure out why. Was there something he was supposed to do? Someplace he needed to go? It was obviously important, since he'd had this dream and vision before. The uncertainty of what it all meant nagged at him like a bad tooth.

"Is that kaf I smell?"

Leia's voice startled him, and he jumped in his seat. "Don't sneak up on me like that!"

"I didn't, farmboy, you were totally lost in your thoughts." Leia gave him a smirk as she poured her own mug. "What's on your mind?"

Luke looked at her blankly, still thinking about the dream. He wondered, not for the first time, if it had anything to do with Leia, and Han. She'd never given him any details - nor would he ever ask - but Luke knew the two of them had gotten quite comfortable with each other on the way to Bespin. Could the dream be of their future children? Han had not appeared in the dream yet, and the woman on the table was not Leia. But that didn't mean anything. Luke ground his teeth in frustration.

He had to ask her, strange dream or not. If she _was_ pregnant, they could not let her go to Tatooine.

"Luke, are you all right?" Leia asked as she sat down next to him. He could hear the concern in her voice.

No one could give him an award for tact. He just blurted it out. "Are you pregnant?"

"What!?" Leia slammed her mug on the table, sloshing hot kaf around. "What are you talking about?"

"Do you know if you are pregnant or not, Leia?" he repeated.

She stared at him, open mouthed. "Where is this coming from, Luke?"

"I just need to know," he insisted.

"No, Luke, I'm not pregnant."

"How do you know? Did you do a test?" Now that he was in it, he was going to demand and persist until he was satisfied.

"I don't need to do a test, Luke!" Leia exclaimed, looking upset all of a sudden. "Han and I - we - we didn't- not that." She blushed and turned away from him. "Are you satisfied now?" She sounded hurt and annoyed. But he would not stop.

"No." He was not done, for one very important reason. One very strange, unexpected conversation, many weeks ago in the swamps of Dagobah.

_"Came from the universe, your father did," Yoda said, looking him right in the eye._

_They were sitting in Yoda's hut, a warm fire crackling behind them. Luke was physically exhausted from the day's training, running around the swamp with the tiny Jedi Master strapped to his back, following orders and dictates to do this task and that. But his mind was still awake, his hearing fine. Even if what he heard made no sense. _

_"What do you mean?" Luke frowned in confusion._

_"Not have a father, Anakin did. Created and grew in your grandmother, he was."_

_"How!?" he spluttered. "How could that even be possible? Basic biology-"  
_

_But Yoda cut him off. "Hmmmm!" the elderly Jedi Master shook his head. "Not know how, we do. A mystery of the Force, it is. Accept it, we must."_

No one knew how such a thing could happen. Or to whom, or why. He had to be completely sure of Leia. Even though it would not solve the mystery of his dreams, he would at least be sure they were not taking an unborn baby into harm's way. "Leia. Do a blood test - the med scanner here can run it. No one has to know but the two of us."

She was shooting blaster bolts at him with her eyes. "If I do this, will you drop it so we can get going on Han's rescue?" Leia snarled.

"Yes."

She stalked ahead of him to the med bunk, shoes clacking loudly on the metal floor. Leia said not a word as she punched in the request. She glared at him the entire time, except when her attention was needed by the scanner.

The medical machine whirred loudly as it read her blood sample. Luke felt his stomach churn in nervousness. He'd never been so demanding with Leia before. Instead, she was the insistent, bossy one who, on many occasions, intimidated him. He knew once this was all over, she would not hold it against him for the long term, although it might take a few hours before she stopped giving him death glares. He could deal with that. He'd made her mad plenty of times in the past.

"Look." Leia curtly gestured to the scanner screen. "NEGATIVE" flashed in big black letters. "Happy? Now can we get down to business?"

Nodding, Luke headed back to the galley. _It still doesn't explain those dreams, those people, the babies._

Yoda might know. But he had no idea when he would see Master Yoda again. And you could not demand a Force ghost appear, or he would do so and get Ben Kenobi to help explain it.

For the present, he would have to accept the uncertainty of his dream. Leia needed him, needed him focused exclusively on their next mission. Rescuing Han.

For the present, his questions would have to wait.


	23. Loading the Ship

"This is too much, Carlisst! I can't believe you're giving us all these supplies," Leia exclaimed. "How did you get Mon to agree to release them to us?"

The two friends stood a short distance from the loading ramp of the Falcon, watching as Wes Janson, Wedge Antilles, Tycho Clechu and the rest of Rogue Squadron unloading motorized carts and carrying various containers onto the ship. The princess stared in confusion as Wes and Tycho lifted a shiny silver metal box between them up the ramp, followed by Wedge, who carried two small tanks of liquid nitrogen. "I never imagined we'd get a portable bacta cooler!"

"Actually, Mon gave me this list," the general said quietly. "I was as surprised as you are when I saw the details. But I didn't question her on it."

Leia's jaw dropped as she gaped at General Rieekan. "She did? But - I don't - how?" she spluttered.

It was inconceivable to her mind that Mon Montha - who had lectured her repeatedly over the years about her friendship with Han, who had yelled at her weeks ago about the new relationship, - would agree to give them so much for this trip. By doing so, she had tacitly indicated her support for Leia. There was no other way to interpret the generous provisions.

There were the foodstuffs, which did not cost the Alliance that much these days. Powdered eggs, flour, ration bars, nerf milk, frozen stews and vegetables, and other supplies had been stowed carefully in the galley. Leia did not know how the ship's kitchen had the room to hold it all, but somehow all the bags and containers had found a proper home.

The weaponry had surprised her somewhat. Three new blasters and a supply of charges that would last a fighting squad at least two months. Smoke bombs. Gas balls that, when turned on, released an invisible vapor capable of rendering creatures unable to move for several hours. Three short range thermal detonators, each with its own remote comm. These last were of a new design, created so that they could not be accidentally activated.

But it was the medical supplies that stunned her. In addition to the bacta cooler just loaded onto the ship, there were several containers of bacta topical gel, pills, and eye drops. Newly designed bacta patches that would last longer out in hot environments. The standard stim patches and injectables. Anti-nausea medicines. A drug, compatible with the bacta and the anti-nausea medicine, delivered intravenously, that would help to clean Han's blood. There were special soaps and creams that were supposed to be effective in cleaning and healing human skin, nails, and hair exposed to poisons including carbon. A duffel bag of light, loose shirts, pants, and underwear in a soft, tan colored material. These were the kind of garments one might wear as an almost recovered patient in the med bay. Leia blushed, recalling how she'd closely examined the clothes when they first arrived on the cart. She'd studied the pants, and the underwear, trying to determine if they would fit Han. She had not been thinking of the pilots walking around her until Wedge had cleared his throat rather loudly.

"Personally, I think she's feeling some guilt or remorse these days," Rieekan said, not meeting Leia's eyes.

"About what? She had nothing to do with Han being captured and frozen in carbon."

"Not about Han. About you. About how she has treated you the past few years. I think she's finally started to wake up to the fact that it is her behavior and her attitudes that have been pushing you away from her."

Leia snorted, startling the general. "You must be hallucinating. Mon Mothma admitting she is wrong is just as impossible as Darth Vader joining the rebellion," she said dryly.

"Oh, I don't think she will ever say it out loud to anyone, not even to herself. But's she's been different since you two had your - conversation."

Her eyes narrowed, recalling the details of their confrontation. Mon's voice shouting at her, all sense of diplomacy lost.

"_What will people think of you when they find out? They'll think you're some space slut, a cheap whore!" _

_"What would your father say, if he was alive, if he was here now and knew what you have done?" _

They had not really spoken since, certainly not in private. There had been a few meetings where Leia had been required to report on this mission or that proposal. And she had done so completely professionally, although in a manner one could call ice cold. She had done what was expected of her in those meetings, and nothing more. And had paid little attention to Mon Mothma's words or actions, unless they had to do with the topic at hand.

"What makes you say that? That she's been different?"

"Some of the Council meetings, the ones about this mission and your future status," Carlisst said, eyeing her carefully. But Leia nodded, unsurprised.

She had held no illusions that she would be allowed to remain on the High Council after taking this leave of absence. In fact, her official duties in that area had been reduced in the past three weeks to the point that she had not been to a Council meeting in several days - though she knew quite a number of meetings had taken place. It didn't matter. She was doing what she needed to do. She could never live with herself if she didn't make an effort to rescue Han.

The general continued, breaking into her thoughts. "I expected her to argue against me, to make you face the full military court when you return. So did Crix and Ackbar. But she did not. In fact, she was as ruthless as I've ever seen her when some of the lower ranking generals wanted you put in jail right now to not allow you to leave." Leia gasped, but Carlisst went on. "They were lucky to keep their heads, let alone their ranks. We know you won't be in jail, nor will you be on High Council. I'm pushing for either an open consulting contract like we negotiated for Luke, or to have you assigned as my assistant. I've needed another assistant for months. But Mon has continually avoided giving any indication of what she thinks your status should be. I don't know what she's thinking or planning. I can't read her lately, and that is unusual."

"Do you think I should go see her, and thank her for all of this?" Leia wasn't comfortable with the idea, not with the way their last interaction had turned out. But she would do it if Carlisst thought it best.

"No, I don't think you should," he said after a long moment. "At least, not now, not before you leave. Let her come to you, if she decides to. You can thank her then if she does.

"What she said to you about Han was awful. And the part about Bail-" he broke off, shaking his head. "That was the lowest of low blows. She would have known that the moment the words left her mouth. These supplies are part of the apology she owes you. Let her come to you, to give you the rest of it."


	24. Still Have Time

Mon Mothma walked down the long, start white halls of Home One, nodding absently to various techs and droids she met, feeling the confusion and pain swirl inside her.

She had cleared her calendar of meetings this afternoon, hoping to take a nap on the couch in her office. Gods knew she needed whatever rest she could find the time for. But her mind would not shut down, thinking of Leia and the supply manifest she'd given Carlisst last night. Physically restless, knowing her shame, she knew there was one thing she had to do in order to get any relief from her conscience. Before it was too late.

The childish part of her didn't want to apologize to Leia, didn't want to admit she was in the wrong. But the guilt had nagged at her like a bad tooth for weeks. There wasn't much time left today before the Millenium Falcon departed for Tatooine. If she didn't see the princess, and something happened to her on the rescue mission - no, Mon would never, ever find any peace again in this lifetime.

A lieutenant passed her, saluting and looking at her expectantly, but she barely acknowledged him. Mon's mind was not in the present. She was hearing, yet again, herself spitting those unbelievably cruel words at Leia.

_What would your father say, if he was alive, if he was here now and knew what you have done?_

Mon actually felt worse today than she had the day she'd lost her temper.

_Your father would be so disappointed in you._

She had also called the young princess - her political mentee, the daughter of her late, beloved friend and colleague Bail Organa - a whore. Actually, Leia might not want her guidance and advice on anything anymore, after their confrontation. They had not really spoken since that day.

Would _she_ trust someone to give her good advice if they referred to her in such a terrible way? Trust and respect were the foundations of a good mentor-mentee relationship. _Have I ruined that forever? _she thought as she absently turned a corner to the left.

She had even felt, later on, that her comments about the captain were also somewhat regrettable. Possibly.

He _was_ a smuggler. He _was_ a criminal. But there was more to Han Solo than that. And hadn't she continually advised throughout her political career that people were not just one thing, were not so simple in their desires and motivations? To not place people in a box in your mind and leave them there? Captain Solo _was_ a natural leader. People of all levels looked up to him, admired his abilities, including Crix and Carlisst, two of the top ranking generals in the Alliance. Because she did not like Han - he was mouthy, abrasive, incredibly arrogant, and definitely not appropriate for a princess even as a friend - Mon had spent the last three years denying his better qualities.

Her disastrous encounter with Leia had left her in a state of shock.

How had she allowed herself to lose control like that? Her behavior had been simply appalling.

What was even worse was the strange feeling she'd had, that still came up sometimes when she thought about the confrontation. It was as if she had just slapped her late mentee and friend Padme Amidala right across the face.

Leia reminded her so much of Padme, it startled Mon at times. She did physically resemble the senator from Naboo to a degree. They had the same hair color. Their brown eyes were of a similar shape, and crinkled up in a similar fashion when they smiled. It wasn't just eyes and hair that reminded her of Padme. They both were a force to reckon with. Watching Leia in action at age eighteen, a newly elected Senator taking on older and more powerful politicians, including then-Chancellor Palpatine, she saw Padme in her mind. There was that same combination of intelligence, compassion, and intensity - tempered with regalness. They shared an authentic, inspiring eloquence of speech not readily found in the Imperial Senate. So much incredible potential - lost forever in one, but always growing in the other.

She would just as soon have slapped her own child as slapped Padme. So where did this outburst come from?

It was a question Mon had asked herself on and off for weeks. In her suites, in her fresher, she would sometimes catch her own eye in the mirror and look away, feeling embarrassed and confused at her actions. She had yet to find a satisfactory answer.

Maybe it was the feeling the war was slipping away from them. That their recent minor successes would not be enough to overcome the Alliance's dwindling financial reserves and overthrow the Empire. Every day for weeks, since before Hoth, she felt she was holding on tighter and tighter to something that kept shrinking. Her hope of a real victory was slowly, slowly disappearing, so she clung so tightly anything she could, including her own perceptions of what the Princess of Alderaan should be.

_My father would want me to be happy. Han makes me happy._

How much did propriety matter now? The planet was dead, destroyed, with only tens of thousands of Alderaanians left on other systems. If their fight was coming to an end, shouldn't Leia know some happiness before that? The girl had lost so much in her short life. Even if Mon could not approve of the source, didn't Leia deserve a piece of joy before the opportunity was snatched away by the Empire?

Taking a deep breath, she entered the enormous bay where ships were docked. The control schedule she'd accessed earlier this morning said Hangar 15, which apparently was still some distance away.

Various scents lingered on the air - great, metals, the odor of something burning. Conversations, shouting, and the clanking of metal against metal sounded throughout the vast space. Mechanics and other staff hurried here and there, all of them giving her a salute - and looks of surprise. Had she never come to the ship bays before? Apparently not, from the gaze of astonishment from one young recruit.

And then she had her own moment of surprise as she entered Hangar 15.

At least twenty pilots stood facing the open ramp to the ship. They were perfectly still, in correct parade formation. Was it a royal farewell, a show of support for a man they could not go rescue themselves, or both? Mon watched, in astonishment, as the Wookie Chewbacca shook hands - or was it paws? - with Crix Madine and then with Carlisst.

She saw Leia, dressed in flight gear, start to ascend the ramp. _My time is gone_. They were leaving. Now. Thirty standard minutes before they were scheduled. Mon's stomach filled with dread.

And then the princess stopped and turned around, as if she knew there was something else that needed to happen. Over the heads of the pilots, their eyes locked. For a moment, Mon felt as if she and Leia were the only ones there. With every cell in her body she willed that Leia could know she was sorry.

The tension in her stomach slowly eased as Leia finally nodded in her direction. Then the princess continued up the ramp and disappeared into the ship, hell bent on a mission Mon would pray every day came off successfully.

* * *

**Author's note: This is a re-write. After I posted this chapter the first time, I realized I wanted a scene where Mon never actually tells Leia she's sorry. That it is one of those unspoken things that you can feel. So here it is.**


	25. Can't Save Everyone

**Author's note: one reviewer seemed to have the idea that Ch 1 to Ch 24 occurred over the course of one week. But it is meant to be over about 6-8 weeks. Sorry if the passage of time is not clear. I'll see what I can do about that in future chapters.**

* * *

The girl's voice - woman now, really - was barely discernable in the cockpit of the Falcon, a tiny thread of soft high voice projecting out of Leia's datapad. She pressed the volume up as high as it could go.

"I was fourteen when I was taken and sold. My da sent me to town one day to buy machine parts. Bolts and things. I didn't know anything until I woke up naked with five other girls in some dingy locked room. We were all naked. Bruised, too. And we all hurt down there. Real bad."

Pressing Pause to stop the holovid, she set the data pad on the empty navigator's chair and put her head in her hands. _Why am I doing this to myself? She's been dead for over ten years. This can't be part of the plan._

Even though she had not looked through even a quarter of the data she'd downloaded on Jabba and other Hutt criminal enterprises, she knew there'd be more videos like this. Women - mainly human and Twilek - who'd somehow gotten out of sex slavery and attempted to testify to the former Imperial Senate, hoping to stop the trade and help survivors. In this video, "Nilla"'s face was blacked out and her voice had been digitally modified to disguise her identity.

But Leia had met her, in person. It felt like light years ago, when she herself was fourteen years old and visiting her father's Senate office. A young woman had been there when Leia had arrived. She was dressed in a middle class manner, and by all appearances seemed groomed well. Her long blonde hair was clean and shiny, and she had light makeup on her face. But there was such a sense of numbness from her, a feeling that this odd woman had suffered much and was resigned or even conditioned to expect more suffering and more disappointment.

_"My name is Petra Baska," she said to a confused Leia, ignoring Bail's horrified gasp. "It no longer matters who knows that." She gripped Leia's arm and squeezed, hard. "You are young and beautiful and influential, Princess. Please - make sure the galaxy your children grow up in is better than this one." _

Then she left the office, despite Bail's protestations and offers of guards and safehouses. And four days later they heard that she was dead. Hit on the street by a nondescript hovercar that, predictably, no one was ever able to trace.

And then things started go sour fast in the Imperial Senate. Clandestine meetings for the rebellion in places all over the galaxy. Before Leia knew it, she was hip-deep in the Alliance workings and supporting new laws to stop the slave trading was off her radar.

At times, over the years, she'd gone on many missions that put her in the presence of women like Petra had been - sex slaves to men working in the underbelly of various planets. So many times she'd wanted to steal the girls away and hide them in the holds of the Falcon. Rescue them. Save them the way no one could save Petra. But those were the wishes of a fool. How could she take such an action and put the mission - and the people with her - at risk? Each time she'd put those girls firmly out of her mind, focusing only on her role in the mission. But it always took some time, when she was finally back on base, to have the feelings of guilt dissipate.

Now she faced the same issue - with an additional complication.

If they were caught, _she_ could be put in that very position. Sex slave to the entourage of Jabba the Hutt. Chewie had been very angry that she was even involved in this mission. What had he said the other day? _Do you have any idea how nasty that place is? How awful it smells? The kind of things that go on there?_

But it didn't seem real to her, not yet - the possibility of things going horribly, horribly wrong. It was the same as any other mission. Only when she walked in the door in whatever get up and alias had been set for her did Leia ever truly _feel_ the reality of the situation, the potential of failure. The thought of being captured and set as some slave was abstract. Something that did just not apply.

Even though it hardly felt real, she was still prepared. Just like she prepared for any other mission. Absently she rubbed the skin above her upper lip, the place where fake moles had been placed in the past. Fake mole suicide pills, that is. She had a sheet of four of them securely packed in her bags, ready for her to use when it was time to breach Jabba's lair. They could only be removed from the skin by pulling them off. This particular mixture did not dissolve in water or any other liquid except human saliva.

She did not want to have to use the pills. She did not want to die. She wanted Han back and alive and well. She wanted to defeat the Empire surely and soundly, and to have the chance to build that galaxy that was better, that was safe for all.

So Leia put the fate of Petra Baska out of her mind. There would be more guilt to work through, after this mission. But, like every mission before, she had to focus. There was no other option.

* * *

**Author's note: We never see this in the movies, but I've seen it mentioned in the EU that Leia got involved in stopping Wookies being captured and used in slavery. So it is not a hard leap to imagine her wanting to fight passionately against other kinds of slavery. Nor is it a hard leap to imagine her feeling some guilt on encountering female slaves during missions because she cannot help them.**


	26. Luke and Leia

They sat together on the hard stone roof of Ben Kenobi's house. Brilliant twin suns, glowing red and white, sat low in the sky and cast a gold sheen on Leia's face.

She looked tired, but seemed to still have some energy after the long trip from the most recent location of the fleet to Tatooine. The Falcon had arrived, landing safely a few hours ago, just a short distance from the late Jedi's dusty house.

Chewie was still on the Falcon. He would sleep there tonight, and each night until they were sure the security and cloaking systems were working and the Jawas and sand people were staying away from the ship.

"Tell me what you know about Ben Kenobi," he asked her.

This was something they had talked about after the Death Star was blown up, after the excitement wore down and the stress of war came back hard and fast. Luke and Leia had only talked that one time about Ben - for what help could be gained in the current war from a dead Jedi who had lived as a hermit for so many years on a crime-infested backwater planet?

But now, with the knowledge and training he had, with the odd visions and insights - he wanted to hear it all again. Maybe this time there would be something his more impatient, less experienced self had ignored.

"Well, you know I never met him," Leia started, giving him a look of surprise. "But my father knew Ben. General Kenobi. They first met before the Clone Wars, through Senator Amidala. There had been some attacks on her life, and I think General Kenobi had some involvement in her protection. Later on during the Wars I think General Kenobi came to Alderaan once or twice. I'm not sure. I didn't think my father had any contact with him after those wars, so I was surprised when Father told me we had to find him. We were going to need his help."

"You're my only hope," Luke murmured absently.

He must have watched that recording over and over in his mind a hundred times that fateful day over three years ago. Seeing a beautiful young woman in distress. Longing for a change of scenery. Needing some adventure. And he'd gotten it, all right. More adventure than he could ever have imagined.

Those few days had changed his life forever. He had decided, back on Yavin 4, that the change was for good in spite of the terrible deaths of his aunt and uncle and  
Ben's sacrifice. Now that Luke knew of part of his true parentage, part of him wished to be that simple moisture farmer again, nagging his uncle to let him do this or that. That fate - far less exciting and dangerous than his current life - was simple. If the droids had never landed on Tatooine, never been purchased by his uncle, he might never have known about Darth Vader. He'd still have his right hand.

_If! If! If! Unpredictable, life is. What would have happened if the droids never came, you will never know. Useless to play "what if", it is. You must focus on the task at hand. _

"Come back, Luke. You look like you're a million light years away."

"Sorry." He felt himself flush slightly. "I was just - thinking about what my life might have been like if I'd never encountered C3PO and R2D2."

"It would probably be a lot different than it is right now. I, of course, would be dead."

"Leia-" he tried to interrupt but she, in her usual fashion, rolled right over him.

"I was tagged for death. After I saw Alderaan blown to pieces, I welcomed it. Never did I imagine two crazy moon jockeys and a Wookie would break into the detention area and get me out. If you'd been one standard hour later - there were so many days on Yavin where I wished you three _had_ been too late to rescue me."

"But you never tried to hurt yourself, except for-"Luke broke off, gaping, as he saw the look in Leia's eyes change. "You did? How did - I thought there was only the one time." The time when he'd been with Han and Chewie and they'd found a drunken Leia in her office, her head resting on her desk whispering her father's name over and over. A blaster set to kill hanging limply from her hand. She'd missed their agreement to have dinner and play cards on the Falcon, so they went looking for her. Who knows what she would have done had they not searched every possible location she would be.

"No, Luke. There were several times. Did you ever wonder why you ran into me leaving the Falcon a few times in the morning?"

"Han found you? He never said a word about it. Always made it seem like-" he blushed and stammered. "Well - you know how Han is."

To Luke's surprise, Leia did not respond in kind. "He was always saving me. From myself, mostly," she whispered. "Even with all the fights and the smart remarks. I just didn't recognize it then." A look of fear washed over her face. "Do you really think we can get him out, Luke? I need him. I need Han."

In Leia's face, Luke was reminded of all the times, all the missions the four of them had been on. So many close calls. Too many just in times or almost didn't make its. But they had, the four of them. Each and every time. They had made it.

And that was not all they had on their side this time around.

_You must focus on the task at hand._

"Yes, Leia. We can. We can get him out."


	27. Not Much Longer

Finally, he'd had a day off.

After over two months of working for the Hutt, Lando finally had a free day off where he could actually leave Jabba's palace.

Finally!

He'd had hours off here and there, but never enough time to do more than go outside to clear his head and watch the winds attempt to shift the endless sands of Tatooine. Never enough time to get away from this foul place and everything it represented.

It was rather ironic, he thought, as he sat at the bar of one of Mos Eisley's seedier dives drinking a cheap Corellian whiskey that would never have passed his lips in his life on Bespin. Yes, it was rather ironic indeed that he now hated the people and the kind of life he'd led that had brought him to winning the gas colony all those years ago.

Once he'd found those creatures - the low level criminals that sucked up to Jabba - to his liking. But now, seeing them milling about the throne room, plotting their next game or scam, he felt sick.

Even as the administrator of Bespin, he'd still rubbed shoulders in the underworlds. He'd still indulged in the gambling, and a small con or two from time to time. Anything bigger and he would have put his ownership of the gas colony - and far more importantly, his lavish lifestyle - at risk.

But if someone came to him today, said that Han was rescued and fine, and Leia, Luke, Han and Chewie could go back to the Rebellion and he could go back to his old life, have the money and the influence, the artwork and the women - he didn't know if he would take it. He might just say no to the chance.

Yes, he hated Jabba, hated the guards and the slime of the galaxy that made the ongoing trek to a palace in the middle of a desert. He hated said palace, even though he'd actually gotten used to the sights and most of the smells, foul as they were. He hated his job, despite the fact he'd been recently promoted.

He hated everything about his current, temporary state of affairs. Except for one thing.

This was the first time in his life that he could ever recall doing something for someone else without an ulterior motive. This was the first time he could remember doing something that had real meaning.

Sure, he'd done right by the people living and working in Bespin, but that was not from any altruism on his part. Well treated people equaled a well run gas colony, which meant steady or increased product quality, profits, and customers - and more money in his pocket in the end. Investing in the populace was good business, and nothing more.

Lando had no expectations of his guilt over Han ever lessening. During their weeks long flight around the galaxy hunting for Han, it seemed that Chewie was warming up to him somewhat. He thought perhaps the Wookie might have forgiven him, although nothing to that effect was ever said.

It didn't matter. It wouldn't matter if Leia and Han ever told him that they forgave him, once this mess was over. It didn't matter that he would be dead now if he'd tried to stand up to Vader. The guilt would always be there.

He was still able to get some satisfaction, guilt or no, over doing anything to help Han. Knowing he was finally doing something worthwhile helped him get through the long days and equally long and repulsive nights on duty for Jabba.

Sighing, he drained his glass and took a credit from his pocket. Lando slid the small currency across the scarred counter and nodded at the barkeep for another drink. He was waiting for a sign from Luke so they could briefly meet today, and it would not do to sit in this bar and slowly sip one drink.

He did have something to look forward to. Things were progressing for the plan.

How convenient that his superior had pissed off Jabba, who had promptly turned the Twilek into a snack for the disgusting rancor. Now Lando was in charge of the scheduling of the guard roster. And he knew a lot of them were interested in attending the podraces that were supposed to be held in a few weeks.

Once he and Luke had worked out the race dates, he could then go back and schedule fewer guards and start to set the plan in motion.

It would not be long now.

They could unfreeze Han, blow Jabba's palace to bits, and finally get off this hellhole of a planet.

No, it would not be much longer. And then he would have to figure out the next part of his life.


	28. Leia - Bespin Memories - Tomorrow

**Author's note - reader beware. Sexy times ahead. **

* * *

Three minutes.

That was all she allowed herself. All she had promised Luke and Chewy.

Three minutes of a real, cool water shower to remove the continual scratch of grit and Tatooine sand from her body.

Gods, it felt so good, and was over far too soon.

In the captain's cabin - _their_ cabin - she slowly dried off, eyeing her bottle of lotion that she put on several times a day. The dry Tatooine climate sucked every drop of moisture from her, or so it felt. She was getting closer and closer to a husk of flaky skin every second on this dreadful planet. She wondered how much longer they would be here.

Things were starting to move. A few days ago Luke and Lando had met in Mos Eisley. Apparently Lando had been promoted, and was now in charge of scheduling guards. It would be a few weeks more before they could enact the next steps of the plan, but they were getting closer. Each day closer.

Creaming the lotion over every inch of skin, Leia closed her eyes and thought, as she did often, of that last night in Bespin. The night before Vader. When she had surprised herself and Han with the strength of her wanting him. They had not been able to make love the way they wished due to the lack of reliable contraception, but there was so much they were still able to share with each other.

* * *

_Bespin - the night before Vader_

It felt so, so wonderful. Like a dream from another world.

When was the last time she had indulged herself so completely in the pleasure of a long, hot, steamy bath? Certainly not on Hoth or Yavin, no baths were to be found. Just sonic showers that functioned intermittently at best. No, the last time she could remember was shortly before she'd joined the Imperial Senate. There was always so much to do, Leia never felt she had the time to treat herself as she was doing now.

Stuck on Bespin, waiting for the repairs to the Falcon to be completed, she had no choice but to wait. She had no more work to do, having done it all weeks ago as the ship limped slowly toward the gas colony. It was unwise to try to contact the fleet at this juncture. She couldn't risk the Empire honing in on that communication.

She leaned her head back and sighed, closing her eyes and enjoying the feel of hot water soothing her body. Among the luxurious amenities in the bathroom was a rose oil that reminded her a little of flowers on Alderaan. It had foamed up into pale pink bubbles in the tub, filling the room with a warm, rich scent. All that was missing was to make the bath a decadent experience was to have rose petals in the water.

No, that wasn't quite true.

What would truly be decadent would be to have a sexy scoundrel in the bath with her.

Her imagination had been running away with her for years where Han was concerned. Now that they had finally admitted they were attracted to each other, it made things only worse for her. Now she _knew_ what it felt like to be touched by Han - in so many ways - she had to have him, no matter that he had to leave and might never return.

The few times they'd explored each other made her crazy for more, and he knew it. Han made her want to ignore the fact that she had no implant and her shot was no longer effective. She had been rather embarrassed, but Leia couldn't stop herself from asking Lando about medical facilities. She had an appointment tomorrow afternoon for an exam and a contraceptive shot.

And then - everything Han had told her, everything she'd imagined could finally happen between them.

Her hands rose of their own accord to her breasts, slowly teasing the nipples, as she envisioned Han sitting in the bath. She would be lying in his arms while rose steam swirled around them. His deft, long-fingered hands would roam her body, teasing her to throbbing, lustful dizziness while he kissed and nipped her neck.

"I think I should be doing that," a low, husky voice said as strong fingers stopped her left hand from its ministrations.

Befuddled by her arousal, Leia was slow to look up, but she knew who was there. In a crisp white shirt and clean blue Bloodstripes, looking larger than life, Han filled the room with his potent masculinity that used to scare her.

Now she craved his magnetic combination of safety and tenderness. Protection and primal lust. She needed him.

"Yes," was all Leia found she was capable of saying.

She could not help but stare at him as he stripped, slowly unbuttoning his crisp white shirt and peeling it off. Her mouth went dry at the sight of his lean, muscular tanned chest. An answering ache resonated in her loins. "I'm sure your tutors told you it wasn't proper princess etiquette to drool over half naked men," he quipped, giving her that lopsided smirk that usually made her want to either smack him or, lately, kiss him.

"Yes."

Leia was frozen in place, mesmerized by Han, as he removed his belt and unzipped his fly. He stripped off his briefs and pants in one swift move, and only allowed her a second or two to look at his naked body before he gently nudged her forward in the tub and sat down behind her. "Come here, sweetheart."

And just as she had imagined, she was sitting between his legs, leaning back against his firm chest. Safe in his arms, her body a slave to his.

"I've had a lot of fantasies about you over the years, princess." Han's voice rumbled low in her ear, sending shivers up her spine. "Being in a bath with you like this was always one of my favorites."

A little moan of pleasure escaped her as those large, hot hands around her soapy body to cup and massage her breasts. She couldn't help but press her own hands on top of Han's, pushing her chest closer to all the delicious sensations he could give her. "Yes," she gasped, feeling him roll a swollen nipple between his fingers. Her head fell back onto his shoulder.

"You really are worked up, aren't you, honey?"

His words, spoken in that typical teasing tone, flipped something inside her. Gone was the woman who followed what Han initiated. Leia turned to face him, straddling his legs. Throwing her arms around his neck, she shut his smart mouth with a ravishing kiss. She was on fire for him and would not be swayed.

"Shit, Leia!" he gasped, pulling away for some air and looking at her in confused amazement.

"Tomorrow. I want you to show me what you told me," Leia whispered as she locked eyes with Han.

"Tomorrow?"

"I'm getting a shot tomorrow."

"A shot. Tomorrow." He pulled her back for a slow kiss, running his hands down her back to her butt and thighs. "Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow." It came out as a moan.

"What about now?" he smirked, caressing lightly between her legs, skimming the delicate skin near her clitoris. "Seems like you might need something to tide you over, sweetheart."

Leia shuddered and moved her hips, trying to get him to rub against her again. But his hands had quickly moved back to her breasts. "Oh, please," she whimpered. "Please."

"Please what?" She was panting now, loving the feeling of the slow slide of those magic hands from her breasts to her belly, and between her thighs again. His fingers moved in light circles so, so tantalizingly close to where she wanted them to be.

"Please touch me."

And then a single long finger slid inside her body, stroking her gently. Leia closed her eyes as her wish was granted. She simply could not hold back a groan of pleasure. "That feels so good."

"Open your eyes and look at me, princess," Han commanded as his other hand began to press against her clitoris.

Panting, Leia slowly opened her eyes. She thought she could see Han, but felt light headed. "You want me to make real love to you. Tomorrow," he said.

"Yes. Please, Han."

A second finger had joined the one inside her body, and Leia jerked suddenly at the feel of it, crying out loudly. "Fuck, you are so creamy and hot, sweetheart," Han groaned. "I wish it was tomorrow, I want to be deep inside you, I want to feel all of you."

"Please. More, Han." She was almost riding his fingers now, moving up and down. The thought of tomorrow, the idea of Han filling her body and touching her in ways she'd never imagined made her frantic for release. Leia gripped his shoulders and shifted her hips back and forth, hitting that sweet spot inside her again and again until she felt herself tighten around his fingers. "Han!" she sobbed, squeezing him tightly as her legs shook uncontrollably from the force of her orgasm.

She rested her forehead against his and tried to catch her breath. "Oh Gods, oh Gods," she panted, still shuddering a little from the aftershock.

"Tomorrow will be even better, princess. Out of this galaxy incredible," she heard him say.

"How is that possible?"

"It is, sweetheart." He kissed her neck just below her ear, lightly nibbling the skin. "Trust me."

* * *

But there had been no tomorrow. No shot, no making love with Han as she so desperately wanted to.

There had been only the surprise arrival of Darth Vader and Boba Fett. Being taken from Han, hearing his screams as he was tortured. And then watching him be lowered into that pit - and frozen in poison.

Leia sat on the edge of the bunk, feeling the aftereffects of her vivid memory tingling in her crotch. She had her own hands, which she could and had used to bring herself to much needed orgasms in the past few weeks.

But she really wanted Han's hands.

Hans' voice in her ear teasing her, talking dirty, or commanding her to come for him. Han's eyes locked with hers as he built her pleasure. Han's body over or under her, sliding, stroking, thrusting, riding. It didn't matter to her where or when or how.

She wasn't here, in the middle of a desert, to rescue him because she thought he'd be a good lay once he recovered from his ordeal. She loved Han with every cell in her body. Why else would she put her status in the rebellion at risk? But she wasn't ashamed to admit her desire for him.

She wasn't ashamed to admit that, in all her prayers for him and this mission, she also prayed he would eventually be able - in all ways - to make good on the promise of tomorrow.


	29. Visualizations

One standard week.

That was all the time that was left.

One standard week before Leia and Chewie - or, rather, bounty hunter and captive - would make their way to Jabba's palace to infiltrate it - and get Han out.

She sat on the sofa in Ben Kenobi's living room, cross legged, hands flat on her thighs.

The closer she got to it, the harder it was not to quell the twisting of her stomach. For God's sake, her hands trembled earlier today when she'd inspected, for what felt like the hundredth time, the outfit she would be wearing.

No other mission had ever affected her like this.

She should have known, should have realized her reactions would be like none before.

Recently her insomnia, always an issue - unless she was sleeping next to Han - had gotten exponentially worse. Leia hated the idea of taking drugs to sleep, but it seemed the only way to get some rest. She needed to have her wits about her in the next few days. So she took the drug, which let her sleep for a blissfully uninterrupted eight or nine hours. But when she woke, it was to an aching head and dehydrated mouth. Kind of like a hangover morning. Very nasty.

Then her appetite, often sketchy at best - although on the way to Bespin, she'd gotten used to eating more, and more regularly - was off again as well. She ate a little here and a little there, despite the protestations of Chewie and silent looks of concern from Luke. How could she put more food in herself when sometimes her body wanted to throw it back up again?

Because that had happened last week. Once or twice she'd escaped to the fresher just in time to heave up what little existed in her stomach.

This was getting old, and getting her nowhere. And she did not want to take drugs to sleep, and drugs to quell her anxiety. There was nothing left for it that she could see. She had to try something new.

Something that she had really not wanted to do. But what choice did she have?

Luke had attempted in the past to train her on meditations. He also tried to bring up what she just could not think about._ "I think you must have some Force ability in you. How else did you hear and find me on Bespin?" _he'd commented once or twice shortly after they'd returned to the fleet after escaping Vader. Lately he'd simply talked about some of the things he did to calm and focus, and not tried to train her or pressure her to talk about - anything.

Now here she was, slowly settling in to try what she'd previously resisted. Legs crossed, focusing on her breath. Slowly breathing in through her nose - counting one-two-three-four. Slowly out through her nose to a count of four. And repeat - over and over and over.

Maybe she had some ability in the Force. Perhaps it was true. But now was not the time to think about any of that.

_"I focus on feeling the Force. But one could focus on anything. You have to concentrate on something. Just one thing."_

Breathing slowly in and out, Leia suddenly recalled her younger years. Her classes. Tests she'd had to study for. Preparing for her Imperial Senate debut - all those speeches. Hadn't she seen all of that in her mind - getting the highest marks possible on the tests? Saw herself in her own mind giving presentations in the Senate chambers? Those visions prior to the actual events had calmed her mind and spirit, turning the exact details of the vision into reality.

This was no different, was it? These meditations?

Keeping her breathing rhythm, she pictured the future in her mind, as clearly as possible.

What did success in this mission look like?

_She and Han, lying together naked in bed on the Falcon, arms and legs wrapped around each other. Her air was long and loose around her shoulders, spilling onto his chest. She was looking down at him, and he was smiling up at her. His skin was its normal smooth tan, his eyes their usual golden. He looked well and healthy and whole. No strange skin discolorations from the carbonite. He could see, no blindness to worry about. Han's eyes radiated love and joy as he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her tenderly. _

Normally seeing a vision of her and Han together like that would start her heart racing and body trembling with desire as she remembered all the things they'd done together - and imagined the rest that had not yet happened.

But all she felt in the moment was happiness and peace.

Relaxed and utterly content.

It was strange - and amazing.

She placed a hand on her heart and kept breathing, even more slowly than before, and felt tension in her body start to lessen. To her surprise, Leia yawned, but kept the vision of her and Han firmly in mind.

More and more relief and tranquility flowed to her the longer she sat in the living room, the light of the setting twin suns turning the room a beautiful combination of pink and orange. Her heartbeat was slowing.

It had been a long time since she had felt so peaceful. And so sure of what was going to happen. Because besides being relaxed, she also felt a solid confidence in the positive outcome of the mission.

They would get Han out. They would all get out. Han would be treated, he would be well.

Everything was going to happen as it needed to.

Everything.

* * *

**Author's note: I have no idea how Force Meditations looked or worked. So I based Leia's meditation on my own experiences and use of visualizations. **

**Also, in the distant past, I have taken sleeping pills - which left me feeling the way Leia did when I woke, although I made her icky feeling stronger than mine. **


	30. I've Got A Bad Feeling About This

[I've got a bad feeling about this], he growled, as they walked the hot sand trail to Jabba's lair. [I wish you weren't going in there. I don't even want to go in there.]

"So you've said, many times." He heard the princess sigh. "At this point, what other options do we have?"

None. They had no other options. The plan was already set in place over two months ago when Lando was hired on as a security guard for Jabba's palace. And several days ago Luke had sent C3PO and R2D2 to Jabba's lair with a very clear message.

It was too late to go back now.

The tall Wookie and his captor trudged on in silence for a while. It was slow going, with some of the sand not as hard packed as it had been in years past.

Chewie wished they could have taken a hover car closer to the palace than this. But knowing Jabba's tendencies and lookouts posted away from his enclave, they could not take the risk of being spotted as anything other than bounty and hunter. So they walked, him in front, wrists handcuffed together. Leia behind him, her tiny frame decked out in a layer of her own clothes and then the outfit and headgear of the most likely dead and unlamented Ubese bounty hunter Boushh.

When Luke and Lando had hatched this part of the plan, before returning to Home One to get Leia, he'd been as angry as he'd ever been. The idea of her going to Jabba's palace at all enraged and scared him, but thinking of the little princess dressed up as that nasty piece of crap made him furious. But if Leia was to infiltrate the palace with the rest of them, she couldn't walk in as herself, or show herself in any way as a woman. And how would he get in? A tall furry Wookie was a lot harder to disguise than a petite princess. This was really the only way that made sense for the two of them to get inside - hunter and the hunted. And ironically enough, Leia not only fit perfectly into the clothing, she could speak Ubese fluently. It worked, but he didn't have to like it.

He lifted his arms to try to adjust his bandolier, wondering yet again just what Luke Skywalker had done to get a hold of that particular bounty hunter's clothing and headgear. There was little question it was authentic. He'd brought up that concern months ago and the answer left him feeling rather uneasy.

_They were sitting around the holochess table on the Falcon - Luke and Lando and Chewie. Discussing ways and means of all kinds to get into that filthy palace._

_"Leia might be able to impersonate a bounty hunter. Chewie, Jabba's got a bounty on you, too, right?" Luke had asked._

_[Yes, he does. But what bounty hunter? You can't just make one up, Luke. There are always several of them milling around Jabba, and they all know each other.]_

_"Boushh should work. I think he and Leia are the same height and build. Although I don't know if she speaks Ubese . . ."_

_Chewie did not miss the look Lando was giving Luke. It was as if he'd just woken up to an unpleasant realization. "Skywalker, what did you do?" Lando asked in a low voice. _

_[Yes, Luke. Where is the real Boushh?] he growled, glaring at the young man._

_The Falcon was quiet for a moment, then Luke got up and sprinted from the room, leaving Chewie and Lando giving each other knowing looks. The bounty hunter had to be dead. But did Luke kill him, and when did he do it? _

_Then, just as quickly, Luke returned, tossing the mask on the table, looking grim. __"Boushh is where he deserves to be. He won't be popping up elsewhere in the galaxy while you and Leia waltz into Jabba's lair. The less you know, the better. Trust me." _

Those last two words - so like Han - still sent a bit of a chill up his spine. But trust Luke they had. This plan was mainly his concoction, and they were trusting him and his Jedi sense to see the mission to completion. How many times had they heard him say "I can feel it" or "I can see it" when it came to a particularly sticky point of the plan? Or when doubt crept in during the long days of waiting for just the right time to act? Chewie hoped Luke was right, but now was one of the those times when uncertainty flared.

A strange little fly swarmed around his sweaty face. Damn, did he hate Tatooine! Even with the suns starting to set, it was still hot as an oven and unbearably dry. He'd drunk as much water as he could in the past few days, but already he was feeling the dehydration creep back in. [Princess, how are you doing?] he asked.

"I'm all right for now. But this mask smells worse than ever. Do you know how much farther it is?"

It was strange to hear her speak through the vocal modifier part of the mask. He could understand the words, but there was little sense of her tone of voice. [Not much farther.]

The closer he got, the more worried for her he was. [You have all your pills in place?] He hated to ask the question, because the idea of Leia being in a position where suicide was her best option hurt him deeply. But he had to know she was ready for it.

"Yes, I've got them all."

As they crested the rise, he could see the top of the palace in front of him. It was almost show time.

[Remember, if you get caught, do what they tell you. Don't give them a reason to - to - hurt you.] Gods, if they did something to her he would rip and claw and tear until Jabba and his minions were nothing more than a pile of gore. He would have no trouble destroying them all.

He could tell she was laughing a little, but the mask's distortion made the sound eerie instead of happy. "I could say the same thing to you, Chewie. But I will do what you say. I don't want to have to use the pills."

[Good.]

They were still a distance away, but he could see the main entrance to the palace opening, and Jabba's favored Gamorrean guards coming out. Someone or something must have sensed them as they walked in.

[There are guards waiting for us outside the palace, Princess], he said in as low a voice as he could muster.

[Get ready].

* * *

**Author's note - in the canon, Boushh is killed by an operative of Black Sun because he is becoming too much of a problem. Then Leia must get the armor via Xizor. But in my AU, it is not outside the bounds of possibility that there was an Imperial bounty on Luke Skywalker, and that Boushh tried unsuccessfully to take him. **


	31. After the Audience

"If you'll follow me," said the guard, gesturing down the hall, "I'll show you to your quarters."

"Of course," Leia managed. Thankfully she remembered to speak in Ubese before the words came out, otherwise her cover might be blown. Thank Gods she did not shout out the real name of the guard in her surprise to hear his familiar voice.

Walking after Lando - Kel, now - out of the audience chamber, she took long, slow breaths to try to calm the beating of her heart.

How she had found the nerve to play the game with Jabba, she did not know. They had known the bounty amount on Chewie prior to going in - 25,000. Luke had said to ask for 50,000. And he was the one who had suggested taking a thermal detonator along as persuasion. _"It's something the real Boushh would have done. Take it. We might need it later," _he'd said a few days ago as they were going over this part of the plan again and again.

And she had taken it. To remove it from her belt and turn it on - all it needed was one more push of a button to explode - she could still not believe she'd done it. Her hand shook slightly as she patted the small silver ball, wondering if it would be used at all in this mission.

Leia coughed and cleared her throat, wishing she could rip off the helmet and toss it in the nearest pile of garbage. By this time, the interior stunk horribly, and it had become a little difficult to see. The lighting down the hall was even worse than that in the audience chamber.

Suddenly Lando turned and opened a door for her. She walked in, and to her surprise, he followed, shutting the door behind him.

The guest quarter was small, but it looked comfortable. A double bed with plush red coverings. A bedside table with a light and music console, a red velvet chair, a closet on one wall. And wonder of wonders, a private fresher. Leia watched impassively as Lando walked around the room, inspecting the console on the bedside table and the light adjustor just inside the door.

"This room's bugs are not active, at least not yet," he whispered, sitting on the bed facing her. "But they will be."

"Can I take this thing off?" she replied, talking as softly and as low as she could.

"Yes, but not for long. I can't stay long, either."

Sighing, Leia pulled off the headgear and held it in her hands. "Tell me."

"Jabba bugs the rooms of all his guests. Some he puts cameras in. I don't think this room or the fresher have cameras in them, but the console has bugs built in that are so good they pick up you scratching your nose. My security equipment records it all. Once I go down to my office, I'll have to turn on the bugs in here or someone will get suspicious."

"Okay." She wasn't surprised by any of that. They had to, as much as possible, keep their actions within their roles. For Lando - Kel - to act oddly all of a sudden would be a giveaway they could not afford. "What else?"

"Go and mingle. Drink. Party."

"It's late enough now that I thought I could rest in here until later," she complained in a low voice. "You haven't been running around for hours under hot skies on hotter sand in this shitty thing!" Her whisper was hoarse as she shook the helmet in irritation.

"And you haven't been here, overhearing this and seeing that!" Lando exclaimed softly. He walked to the console and turned on the music. Hard rock pumped out, a loud jangled cover to their conversation. "Jabba knows what happened on Bespin! Boba Fett must have told him earlier, because I've heard someone in the entourage telling some part of the story every single day I've been here."

"We figured Boba would tell him," Leia murmured dully, not wanting to think about that horrible day. "How could he resist?"

"We did. But the day the droids arrived, I happened to hear Jabba conversing with Boba Fett. He referred at least once to you and Chewie. A couple days after that, I noticed on the holonet access records that Jabba was looking for you. In one link, you were giving a speech at the Imperial Senate. The other was your Imperial bounty record. They may suspect Boushh isn't really Boushh, especially if you stay in here all night."

"Damn it, okay! I'll go back out there. How long do you think I need to stay?"

"You're probably good to leave once the music is done."

"And - Han?" She hated how her voice trembled, but they were close. Oh so very close now!

"There's a panel with three buttons built into the wall. Press the unlit button on the left, it will lower the block."

"And then?"

"Once the carbon block is lowered, there are two sections of controls - one set by his chest, one set by his head. The lower set has one dial - turn it all the way to the right until it stops. The upper set has two dials. Turn the lower of the two all the way to the right until it stops. And that's it - that will start the unfreezing process."

Leia nodded silently, noticing Lando's look change from serious to grim. He was staring at her intently. "What is it?" she asked.

"Jabba tossed a slave girl to his rancor the other day because she kept resisting him. If you get caught, do what they say. Don't give them a reason to hurt you." And then Lando left, closing the door tightly behind him.

She let out a long sigh and slid her body down the wall until she was sitting on the floor. Leia gripped her thighs tightly with trembling hands. She was almost overcome with emotion. She finally was here, finally knew what she needed to do to get her lover out of that carbon prison.

It was just a matter of hours now, instead of months or days. But those hours she would have to spend mingling with the filth of the universe - what a torture it would be to work that room, knowing Han was right there. Right there, and she knew how to get him out!

Picking up that hated helmet, she slid it back on and left her room.

The mission was not over yet. No matter how much she hated it, she still had a role to play.

* * *

He watched the bounty hunter leave his audience chamber, studying the figure's movement, thinking about the short, tense exchange.

Thinking also about the story Boba Fett had shared the day he delivered Han Solo, frozen perfectly in carbon.

It had been one of the great days of Jabba's life, receiving the smuggler - neither truly dead nor alive - in such a state.

The events that had led to the capture of his former favorite turned most wanted were very unusual. He had almost been tempted to contact the Empire to thank Darth Vader for this wondrous gift. But Jabba did not want Imperial eyes turned toward him, so instead he simply spread the story far and wide. It just added to the legend.

He'd looked up Princess Leia Organa of Alderaan on the holonet shortly after Boba had arrived. He had to know more about this woman - royalty, no less - who had fallen in with Han. It was a touching element - a last kiss and an impassioned "I love you" - as that worthless Solo was lowered to be frozen for all time. Boba really was an incredible storyteller. It was as if Jabba himself had been right there in that gas chamber in Bespin, watching the whole exchange with his own eyes.

When he saw her picture - a petite brunette in white Senatorial robes - he was filled with lust. Who wouldn't want to own that beautiful little thing? Creamy pale skin. A faint natural blush to her cheeks. Her figure seemed to be what he favored, but it was hard to tell from the way her clothes lay. That silly hairdo would have to go. His female slaves could fix that in no time.

Would a rescue be attempted? He and Boba had talked about that for hours. It seemed a distinct possibility. Boba had heard rumors that Chewbacca and someone else - he could not remember the name now - were flying the Millenium Falcon around after him, trying to intercept him and Han. Finally the rumors had stopped, shortly before Boba arrived on Tatooine. And no one seemed to know what had happened. The pursuers seemed to have dropped out of the galaxy.

Now they had an idea. What with the arrival of the droids last week - Jabba had never had such a well-programmed droid before - and their message, he now knew someone would be coming for Han. Who, but not when. Or how.

Why had the Jedi tipped his hand? It made no sense. Surely this Luke Skywalker would, at some point, attempt to breach his enclave, to rescue his friend, and get his droids back. Jabba did not worry about that. He could take care of him, Jedi powers or no. He was an old and wily Hutt, having seen many things in his long life. No Jedi was going to outsmart _him_. And with the power of surprise diminished, it would be even easier.

But what if there were others working with Skywalker? This Boushh he'd heard of, although Jabba could not ever remember using him. Rumor had it that Black Sun was getting a little annoyed with him for seeking more credits than were agreed to at the time contracts were set. He huffed, agreeing with that sentiment. The wily hunter had pushed him to give out at least 10,000 credits more than he had intended to for the Wookie. But what could he do when faced with his own destruction? He had to agree to it.

He'd studied holos of Princess Leia long and hard. She was the same size as Boushh. Could she possibly be impersonating the bounty hunter? If so, she was in his hands now. In his palace. He had his eyes and ears on that bounty hunter.

He would watch, and wait. If there was a princess inside that mask, he would know soon enough.

And then he would have yet another fabulous prize.

Jabba laughed to himself, the deep tones echoing off the stone walls of the room.

Yes, his life was good. Very, very good.


	32. I've Got My Eye on You - Sort Of

Boba Fett stood against the wall of Jabba's audience room and sighed to himself.

Out of the fray, he watched as the crime bosses, bounty hunters, slaves and entertainers mixed and mingled, drank and danced. There were many people there, many distractions, including a drunk human slave girl who kept reaching for his crotch. Any other time he would have taken her hand, dragged her out of the crowded chamber and into one of the many curtained alcoves used for quick fucks and blow jobs. Any other time he would have delighted to see her on her knees facing him, her blue eyes wide as she sucked and licked and deep-throated him to mind-blowing orgasm.

Tonight he had eyes and thoughts for only one individual.

Boushh.

He didn't really know the bounty hunter that had arrived a few hours earlier, roughly yanking Chewbacca behind him. Boba had thought of going after Han Solo's Wookie friend, just to have the pair of them out of the way. But once he'd delivered the smuggler in his carbonite prison and received an incredible bonus from Jabba - well, 25,000 credits didn't seem worth the effort. And he wanted a break.

So it was Boushh, rumored to be falling out of favor with his main client Black Sun, who was the one to bring in the Wookie. Personally Boba did not care. He did not like to mess with Wookies to begin with. They could be unpredictable and extremely violent. He recalled Chewbacca tossing Stormtroopers off the platform in that gas chamber in Bespin like they weighed nothing. No, he had not, did not need to chase that kind of bounty anymore.

He was now not exactly chasing a bounty, but attempting to test something for Jabba. He recalled their conversation, shortly after the Wookie was taken to the dungeons and Boushh was shown to his room.

_"What do you think, Boba? Is it really Boushh?" the Hutt had asked quietly, carefully eyeing his carbonite art on the far wall. _

_"I don't know Boushh except by look and reputation. That is Boushh on the outside, Jabba. And rumor has it he's demanded - and gotten - higher fees in the past."_

_"Yes, and I hear Black Sun is getting tired of his games. When was the last time you heard he was on the hunt for anything?"_

_Boba paused to think. There had been so many things going on after he left Bespin. Too many close escapes. He could hardly remember anything that did not pertain to his own travels. "A few months ago, maybe? Just after I got Solo. I thought I heard Boushh was after an Imperial bounty."_

_The Hutt's eyes narrowed, and he was silent for a moment. "The timing is - interesting. We get a message from the Jedi wanting me to release Han, and a few days later this hunter shows up with his Wookie friend. Boushh is off the radar for a while, supposedly hunting, and happens to be the same size as Solo's lover."_

_Boba could not help but laugh at this idea. "You really think Leia Organa is in there instead of Boushh?"_

_"I don't know. Possibly." While Boba gaped and spluttered inside his mask, the Hutt patted his shoulder. "When he comes back, watch him. Go talk to him. I want your impressions."_

So here he was, doing as Jabba asked. It was a little thing, really.

Boushh had come back out after a while, and had been seen talking to various people. Boba eyed his movements, but could not see anything that made him suspicious. As he'd said to Jabba, he really didn't know the other bounty hunter. It's not as if they had spent a lot of time together sharing the secrets of their lives.

He walked slowly and deliberately over to the alcove where Jabba had mounted Solo on the wall. It wasn't a place where anyone mingled, even though there was space for it. News had traveled far and wide - and very swiftly - about Han's capture, so it was likely that Boushh would have heard of it. And if, as Jabba's possibly paranoid mind thought, it _was_ the princess in that suit, she knew all about it.

"Admiring your handiwork?"

Boba chuckled, hearing a modulated voice speak in Basic. Yes, he was admiring the view. "As much as I would like to take full credit for that impressive display, I can't," he replied in the same language, turning to look at Boushh. "The Empire was after Han Solo and Princess Leia Organa of Alderaan. Darth Vader contracted with a number of hunters. I was the lucky one to find and follow them to Bespin. And this was the result," he crowed, pride taking over sense, gesturing to the figure frozen in carbon. "He's in perfect hibernation."

"For how long?" the voice rasped.

"As long as Jabba wants. Who knows how long that will be." Forgetting he was supposed to be watching the other hunter, he continued bragging. "It was my biggest fee to date. Two hundred fifty thousand credits."

"And what had the contract been for?"

"One hundred thousand."

"Impressive. Very impressive indeed." It was impossible to tell from the vocal modifier in the mask whether Boushh really was in awe of the final fee, but it didn't matter. Boba was impressed enough with himself for the both of them.

"So - tell me what Darth Vader was like."

"Just what you might expect. Cold and ruthless. Very single-minded. He tortured Solo before freezing him. I watched the whole thing. The screaming got to me after a while, but it was nothing to Vader."

There was silence for a long moment, then Boushh replied, "No, I don't supposed he was affected by it at all."

Boba turned as the pale figure of Bib Fortuna came into his view. "Mister Fett, the master would like to see you now." Nodding to Boushh, Boba followed the Twi'lek to Jabba, knowing full well what the Hutt wanted.

Was there really anything suspicious about the bounty hunter? Boba pored over the short conversation, but didn't think there was anything to worry about.

Yet when he got close to Jabba, he turned back towards the alcove. Boushh was still standing there, alone now. Feet spread, fists on his hips, looking at the man on the wall.

And that could mean anything. He and Jabba had both seen all kinds of creatures - crime lords, slaves, other bounty hunters - stand over there for a while in silent contemplation of the figure encased in carbon. Fascinated by the grotesqueness. Taking it in as a warning. Who knew what went through their minds?

He mounted the steps and spoke to Jabba.

"I'm not reading anything off about him."

* * *

She was so glad he was gone, called away by that vile creature to speak to Jabba.

The longer Boba Fett talked, the more her anger grew. Bragging about capturing Han, gloating about his exorbitant fee. His pride disgusted her. Everything about him made her sick.

Leia had the means to destroy them all. Right here, right now. In her suit, the small thermal detonator rested in a secure pocket. She could set it, and then when she, Lando, Chewie, Han, and the droids were were clear, she could activate the remote comm. In seconds the palace and everyone in it would be a hole in the ground.

It was exactly what they deserved. All of them. It was unfortunate that Vader was not here to share in a fate he deserved more than anyone.

Not having noticed that the music had stopped, she continued to stand in front of Han. She had not been able to really look at him once they'd brought him up out of the gas pit and let the slab crash to the platform. This was the closest she'd been since before the gas chamber in Bespin.

What she would give to release him right now and take him away. Somewhere safe, where he could heal and they could be together. Finally they were almost done, but it had been so long.

So hard.

So lonely.

She wanted him so much. Needed him so badly. It would kill her if he didn't survive the de-thawing process.

A sharp bark of laughter caught her attention, and she turned to find the source, belatedly realizing she'd been staring at Han and daydreaming.

How long had she stood there? Had anyone noticed her? No one was looking in her direction right now, but that didn't mean people had not been watching when her back was turned.

_Focus, Organa! You're not done here yet!_

Mixing in with the retiring crime bosses, she too slowly made her way to her room.

Tugging off the helmet, she set her wrist timer to vibrate and lay down on the bed. Three more hours until she crept out of this room to unfreeze Han.

And then she could enact her part of the plan and get him the hell out of this horrible place.

* * *

**Author's note - next up - the scene where Leia unfreezes Han. I debated writing it, because I really, really, really want to get to some other stuff with Han, but decided to put it in. This will be somewhat AU. **


	33. Out of the Block, Into Trouble

**Author's note: I watched this whole scene over and over and over again. Bits and pieces of it repeatedly. I do believe I am sick of it now! **

* * *

In the deep of night, the whole palace was asleep, or seemed to be.

Taking care to be as quiet as possible, Leia put on her mask and crept slowly from her room down the hall to the audience chamber.

It was less dark in here, the stairwell illuminated by the Tatooine moon streaming through a skylight. It was a blessing and a curse. She could see more with the light, but she could also be spotted much easier than before.

Heart pounding, hands sweaty in her gloves, she walked to the far side of the entrance and slinked along the wall in the shadows. And to her dismay, ran right into something.

_Shit! Shit, shit shit!_

How could she not see those chimes! Dangling in her way, she'd sent them tinkling. Good Gods, they sounded loud enough to her ears to wake the entire palace.

But nothing stirred. Jabba's throne, to her right, was hidden by a curtain. She'd seen him and his entourage leave the chamber earlier in the evening. Apparently he usually retired to a private chamber to sleep.

To her left the bodies of drunken creatures were sprawled on the floor. She walked as close to them as she dared, trying to keep in the shadows of the room, treading on the balls of her feet to mask the clicking of her heeled boots on the stone floor.

If only she could see better in this mask. It was not well designed for dark spaces, which did not make sense as a bounty hunter would more easily operate in the dark. Maybe the real Boushh had had better eyesight than she did.

And now it did not matter so much, now that she was approaching the alcove. Red light - reminding her of the gas chamber - shone up from the below the carbonite block. Above it, white light streamed down to illuminate the imprisoned figure.

She was reminded of famous artwork she'd seen displayed in museums and private homes. Special lighting set up just for the picture or sculpture. To bring attention to certain elements or features. The lighting Jabba had installed brought forth the grotesque terror of a man frozen alive.

The creases in his Bloodstripes. The folds of his shirt. The shape of his hands, the twist of his lips, every line on his precious face. Even the way his unruly hair rested on his head. All the intricate details of Han Solo were set in the carbon the way one would carve a statue out of stone. Leia paused for a second and swallowed, almost overcome by the memories of that day. The horror of watching him descend. The numbness she'd felt waiting for the block come up from the pit. The surreality of it all.

_Focus, Organa!_

Striding forward, she recalled Lando's instructions. First, get Han down. She pressed into the corner, looking out again at the audience chamber. Pushing the unlit button, she took a step or two back as the block began to descend.

Leia jerked slightly, looking around, hearing the block hit the floor with a clang. Why did everything have to be so damn loud? Luckily, it looked as if, again, no one had stirred.

So close now! Just a little more. Finding the two sections of dials, she turned one and then the other all the way to the right until they stopped, as Lando had indicated.

The block began to hum, low now, as the carbon covering Han's body began to change. From a light pink to bright red, signifying the unfreezing process. She wanted to weep with joy, seeing light stream out from small patches on his face, until Han was unfrozen enough for her to see his lips move, his fingers curl as they were freed.

Finally, completely freed, he fell to the floor with a thud, landing on his stomach, his face turned away from her.

He was alive! Oh dear Gods, he was alive! She want to shout her joy at the top of her lungs, but now was not the time or the place. Leia reached for him, trying to quell her shaking hands. Han was heavy, but she managed to grip him underneath his arms and pull him up to rest against a stone table. Shaking from cold or fear, his eyes closed, he tried to move away from her.

"Just relax for a moment. You are free of the carbonite," she said, running a hand over his chest. She wanted nothing more than hold him close, and never let him go. But they were not done yet. "You have hibernation sickness."

She watched as Han's eyes flickered open, and he raised a hand to his face. "I can't see," he said, looking as fearful as she'd ever seen him.

"Your eyesight will return in time."

"Where am I?" he whispered.

"Jabba's palace."

Then he turned his head to hers, breath coming in little pained gasps, as he reached up to touch the leather and metal of her mask. "Who are you?"

She pulled off the mask and set it aside. "Someone who loves you."

"Leia!"

The sound of his voice saying her name in disbelief and desperation almost tipped her over the edge. She had to take a moment to hold his beloved face in her hands and kiss him. There wasn't much time, and his mouth tasted horribly metallic, but she didn't care. She'd been through so much, had waited far too long for this moment.

"I've got to get you out of here," she murmured, breaking the kiss. "But you need patches first." She pulled one bacta and one stim patch out of her pocket. Then gripping Han's shirt, she pulled it up to expose his stomach and used it to wipe some of the carbon residue off his skin.

"Ah, you just can't keep your hands off me, can you sweetheart?" he whispered hoarsely, grinning widely at her.

She couldn't help responding with a smile, although he could not see it. "Quiet, flyboy." She peeled the backing off the bacta patch and pressed it to his skin, an inch below his ribcage. Just as the med droids had suggested. Then she did the same with the stim patch, placing it right below the bacta. "There. Can you stand, Han?"

"I think I can if you help me."

Slowly he stood, with her arms around his waist holding him up. Together they took a tentative step forward. Then another. And another.

Leia froze in horror as a deep laugh echoed through the room. _Oh no!_

"What's that?" Han asked.

It was too late. There was nowhere to go. Han could not move nearly fast enough. He could not see, and he could not fight.

"I know that laugh."

And then they turned around to see the curtain open to reveal Jabba eyeing them, with several of his entourage. Including poor C3PO.

Leia stood next to Han, hands on his waist to hold him up, watching the interplay between him and the Hutt. Han tried to talk Jabba out of throwing him in a cell by offering even more money. She didn't know Huttese, but from the laughter in the audience chamber, it was clear where this was going. Nowhere.

Then they took Han away, one guard on either side of him. Down to the dungeons.

What were they going to do to him? Would they put him with Chewie? At least then he would have some protection. Someone to take care of him.

Guards on either side of her nudged her forward. To the throne. To Jabba. The ugly Gamorrean guard pushed her right up against his belly, so that her face was level with the stinking, gaping maw of his mouth.

"We have powerful friends. You're going to regret this."

But the Hutt just laughed, speaking in that guttural language of his. One that she'd never learned, but now wished she had.

A familiar golden figure approached, speaking words she did understand. "His Greatness Jabba the Hutt welcomes Princess Leia Organa of Alderaan to his palace. He hopes you find the accommodations to your liking. He - " Leia looked at C3PO, who had stopped speaking and was shaking his head. "No, I cannot say that!" he protested. "I am a protocol droid!"

But Jabba smacked C3PO with one hand, making the droid fall to the floor. He gestured to someone with the other.

The pale Twi'lek she'd seen earlier came forward. He was almost more grotesque than Jabba, with his red eyes and pale, moist skin.

"I am Bib Fortuna, Master Jabba's second in command," he said in a low, rough voice. "You are to be the Master's new slave. I will take you to be prepared." He smiled at her in a lascivious way, revealing rows of tiny, sharp teeth.

Then the room erupted in squeals of laughter as Leia, for the first time, really began to worry for herself.

What were they going to do to her?


	34. In The Dungeon

**Author's note - the first part of this chapter is not the Han and Chewie reunion you all know and love from ROTJ. Much more expanded. We're all AU here. Is that Alternate Universe, or Amy's Universe? ;-)**

**Enjoy what I've done to our beloved characters. **

* * *

Being unable to see sucked - bigtime.

Rough hands pulled him away from Leia, dragging him along with them out of room and down the stairs.

"Hey, can you ease up a bit? I can't see here!" But the guards didn't understand him or didn't care. He almost tripped over his own feet as the hands pushed him forward through a door. Han stumbled, hearing a splash of water. He would have fallen over into the puddle had he not touched something hard. A wall.

A wall. He turned around and leaned up against it, wrapping his arms around himself, shivering with cold.

A familiar voice filled the room. [Han, I'm here.]

"Chewie!" Han exclaimed. He'd never been so happy to hear his old friend. "I can't see you, pal."

[Reach out, cub, I'm right in front of you.] And Han did, feeling the furry arm of his friend under his fingers. Such a wonderful sensation. Chewie pulled him into a hug and squeezed him, hard. [I've been so worried about you all this time!]

"How long? How long was I out?" Leia hadn't mentioned it, and he hadn't thought to ask until now.

[About six months, cub. Actually closer to seven.]

"Fuck."

He couldn't believe it.

_Seven months_. Seven months he'd been frozen. Apparently on display in Jabba's palace, because the room he'd just been in was most likely the audience chamber.

"How is that possible? It feels like all that stuff happened yesterday. God." Seven fucking months. A hell of a lot of time for, well, anything to happen. He almost hated to ask, but he needed to know. "What's been going on pal?"

That question set off a barrage of information. And since he could do nothing for Leia but worry about what Jabba was doing to her, the stories were a welcome distraction.

He sat on a dry part of the floor of their cell, leaning against Chewie as the Wookie talked on and on. And the more he heard, the more amazed he became. His mind, freshly woken from its carbonite sleep, was spinning in all directions at the same time. Trying to absorb all that had happened while he was out.

Lando Calrissian. Old Mister Smooth, with his lucrative gas colony, fancy artwork and high-end clothes. His many failed attempts at flirting with Leia. He'd pulled a fast one on Vader, though, saving her and Chewie from almost certain death at the hands of the Empire. He'd fled Bespin with them, bringing along nothing but himself and the clothes on his back. And had spent about two months on the Falcon with Chewie, flying all over the galaxy trying to intercept Boba Fett before he delivered Han to Jabba. Now he was to be found upstairs, a mid-level security man for Jabba.

Han remembered it all. Every single thing that happened to him in Bespin. Lando's betrayal. And his small attempts that day to try to mitigate the damage he'd caused. Now he'd dedicated the past seven months to this rescue. Spending a few month's undercover in Jabba's employ. Now _that_ had to be torture for someone as cultured as Lando tried to be. Han shook his head and sighed deeply. He supposed he would have to forgive Lando. Once he'd seen made sure the old con artist hadn't messed up his ship, that is.

But that was not all. No indeed, far from it.

The princess. _His_ princess. He hadn't forgotten the letter he'd written her, shortly before they landed on Bespin. The one he'd told Chewie to give her if something happened to him. And his friend had done so.

Hearing what she had done for him made him even more in awe of her. And learning of her struggles and nightmares made him feel an almost crushing load of guilt.

He smirked to himself, imagining his Leia telling that pompous prick Horada she'd become his lover on the way to Bespin. And that they would resume their personal relationship when he was rescued. Damn right they would be!

Daydreaming a little, he focused less on Chewie's words, and more on images of Leia. Han had a lot of catching up to do with her Worship. He'd promised her a beautiful tomorrow on Bespin. And the version of tomorrow that had shown up was betrayal, torture, and horror. She'd suffered while he was out. It broke his heart to think of her sleepless nights, weight loss, stress and worry that they'd never find him. Or that he wouldn't live long after being unfrozen.

Leia had been through unimaginable terrible experiences in her young life. There was nothing he could do to erase the past for her, though he wished every day since he met her that he could make it all better. Take away all her pain. Han wanted her here right now, so he could hold her in his arms. Press his face to her hair, breathe in the scent that was uniquely hers. Tell her he'd never leave her, ever, ever again.

Han tuned back into the story, just as Chewie said something about Leia and High Command. "I didn't catch that, what did you just say?" he asked, interrupting Chewie's flow of thought.

[I said Leia's now off High Command because she left to rescue you.]

"Huh? What do you mean?" Han protested. "She went AWOL?"

[Cub, this is not an official, approved mission. It's just me, Lando, Luke, Leia, and the droids. No one else. Rieekan backed Leia being here, but part of the price is that the princess is off High Command. She's not going to military jail, but I don't know what they'll have her doing when we get back.]

"Washing dishes in the mess hall?" Han commented sarcastically as he felt his anger grow. "I can't believe this! She loves the Rebellion, it's been her whole damn life since before we met her! And she leaves it to come after _me_?! What the hell was she thinking, Chewie? She shouldn't even be here! Why the fuck did you let her come along?!" He'd been shouting, but didn't have the energy for it anymore. Han slumped over, resting his head on Chewie's legs, panting to catch his breath.

There were many things he loved about his Princess, but she had her faults just like anyone. Leia Organa of Alderaan was probably the most stubborn woman he'd ever met in his life. Possibly the most stubborn _person_ he'd ever dealt with, period. Smart, too. Once she'd set her mind on something, there was absolutely no swaying her. "I can just see her stealing an X-wing and showing up here on her own," he groaned.

[We didn't want her to come here, Han,] Chewie muttered angrily. [But we included her because we knew she'd do what you said.]

"Sorry pal," he said. "I was out of line, shouting at you."

[Yes, you were,] Chewie harrumphed. [Leia would do, and has done, so much for you. Because she loves you. Don't you get that?]

"Yeah, I get it, I get it," he moaned. He knew what this was about. What sense did it make to keep it to himself? "It's just one more thing for me to feel guilty about. All she - and you - suffered the last few months. Her losing her position. And she's upstairs now, probably being prepped for Jabba's slave parade. Because I didn't leave to pay him when I should have. I was - I was selfish."

[I'm glad to hear you admit it, cub. Because that makes two of us that are not happy with some of your past choices. But what's done is done. We need to make sure we're ready to get out of here, whenever that happens.]

"And how are we gonna do that, pal? We're locked in a cell. We've got no weapons. Oh, and I can't see, remember?"

[Luke's on his way. Or he should be. He'll be getting us out,] Chewie whispered.

"What! By himself? What could he possibly do?" Han scoffed. "He'll just get caught and tossed in here with you and me."

Luke Skywalker was a good friend and talented, trusted comrade. He was like the younger brother Han had never had. Remembering back to the early days - the day they had first met - Luke had been, and still was in some ways, an innocent farm boy. "Luke can't even take care of himself, Chewie," Han snorted. "The kid can fly a plane with the best of them, but he's too naive to get this done. We're gonna be here for a while."

[I wouldn't be too sure, cub. Luke's a Jedi Knight now. He arrived on Bespin just after you were frozen. Had a duel with Vader, and survived, but lost his right hand.]

Han felt his mouth drop open, but no sound came out.

[He's not the same kid we knew on Hoth. Actually, he doesn't feel like a kid anymore. Certainly not the naive boy we meet years ago. He's very different. Harder, I would say. More thoughtful, less impulsive.]

"So - at this point, we're relying on Luke to get us out of this mess?" Han asked tentatively. It was a lot to take in. Almost as unbelievable as Lando doing security for Jabba.

[Yes.]

"You know what, pal? I'll believe it when I'm sitting in the cockpit of the Falcon, with Leia on my lap, and Jabba's blown to bits."

[That's the plan, cub. That's the plan.]


	35. Prepping the Slave

**Author's notes:**

**This chapter - and the next - are two I've been seeing in my mind for a while. Finally I can write them. **

**I'm not sure from the movies if Bib Fortuna can speak Basic. For my purposes, he can.**

**Warning: darker themes in this chapter. Non-consensual sexual touching and groping. Nothing penetrative. If you can't handle non-consensual sexual groping of women, skip this chapter. Intimidation, coercion, manipulation. Some violence.**

* * *

Bib Fortuna had held his current position with Jabba for many years. Having been in trouble and out of credits, he'd wound up in Mos Eisley one day when Jabba's man was in town seeking more staff. Hired initially as a guard, he had steadily and diligently worked his way up from that level through the security ranks. And had begun to be included in strategic decisions.

He thought of himself as the Hutt's second in command, which was, in this palace, technically true. Many decisions had been delegated to him. A variety of duties added over the years.

One of his favorite tasks was to oversee the preparation and presentation of new pleasure slaves. Most of the time, the females - mainly human, some Twi'lek like himself - were captured or bought by Jabba from various dealers that roamed the galaxy. Very, very rarely did a female show up actually wanting to become part of the harem.

And that unwillingness was one of his greatest joys. To see the fear, even terror, in their eyes as the women learned of their fate. Knowing that they would likely never be released from slavery - unless, like Oola the other day - they were killed. It was highly arousing to him to be part of the process.

He stood now, in the harem showers, watching as Jabba's newest prize was brought in by the guards. Princess Leia Organa of Alderaan. Bib licked his lips. She would be a fine one to tame, he thought, taking in the almost defiant look on her face. She turned to glare at him. Oh yes, he would enjoy this immensely.

"Strip," he hissed, gesturing to her.

"What?" she asked. There it was. A note of disbelief, just like all others before her.

"I said strip. You're going to shower and be changed into something more pleasing to the master. You can do it yourself. Or they," he said, pointing to the three Gamorrean guards, "would be more than happy to help you."

"No."

"No?" he queried in a soft, dangerous voice. "No?" Bib nodded to the guards, who approached the princess, roughly pulling her arms behind her. He smiled, hearing her cry out in pain. That was a sound he loved.

He walked slowly toward her, keeping his eyes on hers. The princess still looked strong, unbending. He would take care of that. It would be easy.

"You are not in a position to say no, slut." Bib stood directly in front of her and grabbed her jaw to tilt her face up to his. Then he leaned down and kissed her, trying to push his tongue into her closed mouth. He laughed, releasing her. The look on her face - disgust - was perfect. Grabbing her hair, he pulled her head back. She had her eyes closed. Did she think it would all go away if she could not see him?

"When Boba Fett delivered your lover, princess, he told us a very interesting tale." Her eyes were still closed, her face set in an unreadable mask. "He said Han Solo had been tortured before he was frozen. For quite a while, on a scan grid. And you, princess, were there the whole time. Forced to watch."

She said nothing, eyes squeezed shut, but Bib could see her expression change. He smiled as he saw her press her lips together. "Did you like that, Leia? Did you enjoy seeing your lover in pain? Was hearing his screams pleasurable for you?" He slapped her cheek and she finally opened her eyes. The horror of that day could be read in them. "Answer me. Did you like that?" he hissed.

"No." This voice was the one he wanted. Quiet. Scared. He might even call it subdued.

"I didn't hear that, slut."

"No. I didn't like it."

"I would keep that in mind. Because if you continue to defy me, or the master, we can and will torture Solo right in front of you. We might not have a scan grid here, but we have a variety of devices to really hurt someone. You don't want to be responsible for that, do you?" When she did not answer right away, Bib slapped her again. "Do you?"

"No."

"Good." Then he shoved her roughly. "Get on with it, then."

He stood back, watching the show. She stripped as fast as she could, with her back to him the entire time. What he could see of her, he liked. A lot. And so did the guards, seeing the way the crotches of their pants tented out. This new prize had creamy skin, a tight round ass, and firm legs. Bib felt a shudder move through him as he imagined pounding his erection into her, forcing her to take him in all the way, hearing her cries as his wide girth stretched her beyond capacity. Of course, he could not take her before Jabba did. But there were a few things other than kissing that he was allowed.

"Take those clothes and dispose of them," he ordered the guards. He smiled, seeing the princess's back tense. "And you, whore, will wash your hair and body with the soap on the shelf. You will face us while you do it."

Laughter spilled from his lips as he watched Leia turn toward them and crouch over to hide herself. "Oh no. No, no, no, no. That will never do, princess. Make her stand up straight," he directed the guards. Bib walked over to a door that directly connected the harem to the showers, and opened it. "I need three slaves in the shower. Now," he demanded of the creatures awake in the harem.

Bib found himself even more excited, now that the princess was being forced. Her arms were held out to the sides by the guards. One of the harem slaves was behind her, washing that long dark hair. The other two slaves were cleaning her body, rubbing her skin with small soapy cloths. "Don't stand in front of her, stand to the side or below," he growled, irritated that he could not see what he wanted.

Yes. Oh yes. Even with suds clinging to her, he had a great view of the front of the princess's body. Yes. Jabba would be very, very pleased. Bib stared at her breasts, ripe and lush and deliciously wet. The outfit he would dress her in would do nothing to hide that perfection, and that was just as his master always wanted.

Her cunt was disappointingly hidden by a dusting of curly dark hair. Bib frowned at being denied a view of what was likely perfect pinkness. The hair would have to go, but not right now. There wasn't time.

The harem slaves worked quickly, washing, rinsing, and drying their newest member. Too fast for his personal liking, but Jabba was waiting. He watched the women fix and braid her hair, and apply the make up that was laid out on a table for that purpose.

A slave held up the top of the outfit and prepared to put it on the princess. "Wait. I want to inspect her first." He would not be able to sample anything of this slave once she was dressed and presented to Jabba - unless he had his master's permission. Now was his main chance.

Slowly he walked forward, looking up and down her body. Careful not to scratch her with his sharp fingernails, he gripped a breast firmly in one hand, causing the nipple to protrude. "A little taste, I think," he leered, ignoring the look of disgust on the princess' face. He pushed his long tongue out, licking and swirling the nipple and aureole around it. "Very, very delicious."

It was so enjoyable to degrade her. He only wished he had hours to do it and not minutes. Moving around behind her, Bib grabbed her hips with both hands and pressed his hard cock into the cleft of her naked butt. "Feel me, slut? Feel that hardness?" When she did not respond, he pumped harder against her. "I said, do you feel me?" he demanded.

"Yes." Her voice was dull and emotionless.

"Remember that, slave. Once Jabba has had you, he is likely to share you. With me, the guards, with any criminal scum that darkens his doors. You'll be forced to take us all." Enjoying the feeling of his erection rubbing against her, he hissed in her ear, "And I can't wait to watch." With that last comment, he shoved her hard, so that she gasped and fell to her hands and knees.

"Get her dressed now," he ordered the harem slaves. "She needs to go to the master."

His fun was over. For now.

* * *

**More author notes: **

**Ugly, I know. But I think some in Jabba's palace - not necessarily Bib, but he is a creepy looking dude and served my purpose here - would find it amusing to physically and mentally humiliate and degrade Leia (and Han) while they had the chance. Something had to go on behind the scenes when Leia was getting into her slave get up. This is my take. **

**Don't worry about our princess. The only person Leia will have any kind of sex with in this story is HAN. But she will have to endure some more looks and unpleasant commentary in future chapters, before our crew is all safe on the Falcon again. **


	36. Mental Torture

In a corner of the cell he shared with Chewie, Han sat against the wall, long legs stretched out in front of him, eyes closed, trying to breathe deep and slow.

He was exhausted and in pain. He hurt all over, especially where he'd been burned on the scan grid in Bespin. Clearly, being in hibernation for almost seven standard months had done nothing to heal his wounds.

And damn it, his stomach was starting to churn a bit. Probably the patches, he thought. The stim patch was working to awaken his long-dormant system. The bacta patch was healing him too, but tempering the harsh effects of the chemical stimulants. It would not be much longer before he would have to puke or shit or something. And what fun that would be, crawling around the damp cell, not being able to see a damn thing, retching up Gods knew what kind of disgusting crap.

At least he was alive. For now, anyway.

At least he knew Leia was still alive, and loved him.

Even though this whole fucked up mess was entirely _his_ fault, she still loved him.

She was a wonder. And truthfully, that was paltry praise. There wasn't a word he could think of in any of the languages he knew that went far enough to describe how amazing Leia was.

A sudden burst of yelling, howling, and whistling intruded into his thoughts, breaking the silence of the cell. Han's eyes flew open, seeing nothing in front of him, but unwillingly imagining what was going on upstairs. He knew all too well what those noises meant.

"Leia, no," he whispered hoarsely, horrified by the sound. "No, no, no, no!"

But there was nothing he could do to stop Jabba's slave parade.

In years past, when he was one of Jabba's favorites, he had been in the audience chamber when the newly acquired and prepared pleasure slaves were brought in. It was one of the Hutt's rituals to parade the women – who'd been relieved of their old clothing, washed, cleaned, and given new, skimpy attire – in front everyone. To show off his possessions. To remind everyone just how much wealth and influence he had.

Most of the time, after the parade, Jabba had given a new slave to one of his friends or favorites for the evening.

That had happened to Han once, a few years ago when he was looking to be favored by the Hutt. But it was the kind of benefit he could do without.

_"Solo!" Jabba called out, over the loud, raucous laughter of the audience. "You have pleased me well! My little Serina is yours for the evening."_

_"What?" He was on his way to getting drunk, but Han was still sober enough to process the scene before him and think through what he wanted to do._

_He had never had sex with slaves. Not before he rescued Chewie, and certainly not since he'd saved the Wookie from brutal captivity. Had never had to pay for sex, either. He had never been interested in unwilling women, no matter how easily available they were. And this poor human woman looked terrified. She had trembled and cried the entire time she was paraded around the room for all the criminal entourage to see. _

_But what if he refused? He wanted - no, he needed - the Hutt's patronage. Smuggling for Jabba was risky but extremely lucrative. He could never make that kind of money flying legitimately, even if he could find a job. Gods knew he'd tried, hard. No, if he said he didn't want her, Jabba might decide to cut his runs or drop him altogether. Han could not afford that. _

_Grimacing inside, he stepped forward and took the shaking woman by the arm. Ignoring the catcalls and cheers that followed him, he dragged her down the hall to his guest room._

_"Please don't hurt me," she wept, speaking in Basic, collapsing in a heap on the bed. She curled up into a ball, her back exposed, the fabric of the split skirt opening to reveal more of her flanks. And Han gasped, noticing for the first time the bright red mark on her upper hip. It was a letter B, encased by what looked to be a star or something. _

_"Shit, Serina, is that a brand on your hip?" he asked, horrified at the sight. He knew slavers sometimes branded their captives, but he had never seen this particular design before. "B" could represent none other than Black Sun, a galactic-wide criminal enterprise with a reputation nastier even than Jabba's. He did not want to think of what they'd done to her before she'd been purchased by the Hutt._

_"Yes, sir," she sobbed, never moving to look at him. "It hurts."_

_Locking the door behind him, Han sighed and walked over to his case. Rucking around in it, he pulled out the old shirt he had been planning to wear to sleep in, and a small container. He walked back over to her and sat on the edge of the bed, looking down at her trembling form._

_"Serina. I'm not going to do anything to you," he said slowly, watching her carefully. "The bed is all yours. You can wear this shirt if you want instead of that get up. And here is some bacta gel for that brand. It'll feel odd at first when you apply it, but it'll make you feel a lot better."  
_

_Han stared at the slave woman in surprise as she sprang up, grabbed the shirt and bottle, and sprinted to the fresher without a word or a look, slamming the door behind her. Then he grabbed a pillow and one of the blankets from the bed, and settled into the sofa, long legs dangling over the edge._

_He rested an arm over his eyes and groaned. This was one of those times he wished desperately they could go legit. Chewie had never wanted to get involved with Jabba in the first place. But what choice did they have? "At least he's not asking me to smuggle slaves," Han muttered as he drifted off into an uneasy sleep. _

_At least. _

It was quiet now. Or quieter. The cheering and yelling was over. And Leia was - what? Had Jabba offered her to one of his cronies? Surely he knew who she was by now. It would have been quite an impressive thing indeed for him to parade her around, proclaiming her to be the princess of Alderaan, one of the Empire's most wanted, and one of the influential members of the rebellion. She would be the prize of his harem. Maybe he would not want to share her then.

Han rubbed his face in his hands. Who knew what the Hutt would do. Anything was possible.

"Solo!" The hated voice of Bib Fortuna slithered through the opening in the cell door. "Solo! Enjoying your accommodations?" he sneered.

"Not so much, Bib. This place rates lower than the dives on Polis Massa."

He heard the jangle of keys in the lock, the squeaking of the metal door as it opened, Chewie's answering growl. The footsteps of more than just Bib Fortuna splashing through the puddle in the middle of the cell.

"So sorry to hear that, Solo. We don't have anything better. Not for bantha shit like you, anyway."

He sighed, feeling tired and sick all of a sudden. "What do you want, Bib?" he snarled. "I'm kinda busy here."

"Of course, of course." The overly solicitous tones of Bib's voice made the hair on his neck stand at attention. "I'm here to invite you to a special event."

"Hope it's not black tie. I hate those penguin suits."

A fist met his jaw, banging his head hard into the wall. "Jabba may have liked your smart mouth in the past, Solo, but those days are gone," Bib hissed. "It's your execution. But before we send you to the hereafter, you'll be one of the guests of honor at the breaking of his new slave. The princess."

Han bit back a gasp, not wanting to Bib to see or hear how the idea of being in the same room while Jabba's men raped Leia affected him. His stomach rolled, and he tried to breathe to force back down the bile that wanted to erupt.

"I for one cannot wait to taste the rest of that delicious little slave. I prepped her, you know, so I got to see it all. And taste a little. Those sweet nipples of hers, so, so delicious." Bib laughed and sighed. "Ah, Solo, did you get a taste before they froze you?"

Not wanting to get hit again, or give them any more reasons to hurt Leia, Han sat as still as possible and said nothing.

"No? Didn't she tell you she loved you, just before you went into the pit? Obviously she didn't love you enough, did she, or she would have given you her sweet little princess pussy. I tell you, Jabba's hard pressed to wait to try that cunt. But wait we will." Han flinched as he felt Bib's face close to his. He turned his head, gagging on the foul odor of the Twi'lek's breath. "Your friend Luke Skywalker will be the other guest. Jabba is looking forward to capturing him and turning him over to the Empire. Big payday for that one. So the breaking in of the newest slave will have to wait until all our guests are here."

Han couldn't keep it in any longer. Leaning forward to kneel, he vomited up the bile that had been bubbling in his throat for the past few minutes. Puked up the carbon residue and his last meals. His rage and frustration, the helplessness and guilt - all of it came spewing out of his mouth, onto the stone floor, the boots of the guards. All over the legs of Bib's pants, from the sounds of fury the Twi'lek made. Blood pounded in his ears as he gasped and choked on the muck, spitting it out over and over and over again until he stilled, panting from exertion.

"Disgusting!" Bib shouted. "You are dead!" Han could hear stomping away from him, people moving towards the door. "You'll pay for this, Solo! I'll be back and we'll have some fun before Jabba kills you!"

The door opened and then clanged shut. Han let out a shaky breath. His stomach felt much better, but the rest of him felt like he'd just been beaten. "Chewie?" he whispered hoarsely.

[It's all right, cub. Everything's going to be fine,] he said. Han felt a large paw resting on his back. But it wasn't all right.

"What are you talking about? They're going to rape Leia! Nothing's right!" he hissed. "How can you even say that?"

[Because I believe in Luke, cub. He's on his way. And he will get us out of this, before they can really harm any of us. He will get us out, Han.]

"You sound like a convert at a smarmy religious revival," Han whispered bitterly. "All I know is that I'm trapped in here, blind, and she's upstairs dealing with who knows what! It's my fault she's here, and I can't do a fucking thing about it." He jerked away from Chewie's hand on his arm.

"It's my fault," he said, feeling the desolation engulf him. But there was a tiny bit of a bright spot even he had to acknowledge.

"At least I didn't do anything to that girl that night," he muttered, leaning against the wall, holding his head in his hands.

"I could never face Leia again if I had."

* * *

**Author's note - I don't think we see any guilt from Han in ROTJ about the situation Leia was in with Jabba. He's a smart ass through and through. **

**There may be hurt anger in ESB about the problems his delay in paying off Jabba caused (think of the Hoth hallway scene) and regret (the "Then you're as good as gone, aren't you?" part in Bespin). **

**But I want to think Han would have felt badly about it all, and he would not have been so cocky about it with Chewie. **

**More to come, as well as more guilt. **


	37. Determination

Princess Leia had been in some tight spots before in her time with the Rebellion. Since her rescue from the Death Star over three years ago, there had been numerous close calls in many missions she'd been on with Luke and Han and Chewie.

Somehow, they had all gotten out of every situation alive and, miracle of miracles, without serious injury to life or ship. It sometimes felt like luck - as Han confidently would smirk as they sped away from danger, "Solo luck" - that they had all come together in exactly the right place at precisely the right time. Or perhaps it was fate, some higher power looking out for them and keeping them all one hair's breadth from disaster.

Now here she was, involved in the most important mission of her life and no longer in any sort of control.

She lay against the belly of the slug, her body almost bare in the heavy, engraved metal bra top and matching skirt. The top lay uncomfortably over her breasts, not quite holding her in place. The ties that went around her back felt slightly loose as she reclined. Gods, the last thing she needed was for the metal cups to pull up and expose her chest completely! Would she even be allowed to put it back in place?

The metal girdle and skirt were little better. It was made for someone larger than her, and when she walked, kept slipping down even farther. It was already several inches below her navel. Only the swell of her had hips kept it from falling off, saved her from revealing what she'd only ever shared with Han.

For the present.

Leia had little illusion of her fate here, in the event something went wrong with Luke's rescue. She would commit suicide. As soon as she was able.

In years of preparing for and working in the Senate and the rebellion, she had had training on how to deal with various situations should she be captured. Most of this was mental preparation. Focusing the mind on something else, other than pain or fear, or grief. And these trainings had helped her get through the interrogations on the Death Star without breaking - and revealing the information the Empire wanted.

Just a few hours earlier, the horrible pale Twi'lek led her into the audience chamber, pulling her forward none too gently by a chain connected to the collar locked around her neck. Leia was completely vulnerable - no weapons, practically naked, hands cuffed behind her back. Just as she was on the Death Star.

And just as she had on the Death Star, she brought forth all her mental and emotional conditioning to deal with the leers and catcalls and commentary.

But this situation was completely different.

For a while, she was able to maintain an inner calm as she was slowly paraded around the room. She kept her head high and her eyes open, taking in the faces of criminals she had researched prior to this mission. Able to look at them as targets, she made as many mental notes as she could for future missions.

Leia heard voices - many in other languages, some in Basic - jeering at her. Calling her name. Saying the rebellion would lose. Telling her she was a whore, a slut, a cunt. A fine piece of ass.

She could ignore all that. The names were nothing to her. She'd actually had training on this kind of verbal abuse.

Then they started telling her - in great detail - what they were going to do to her, just as soon as they got the chance. And for a little while, she could put those descriptive images out of her mind. They were just words.

When she felt something like a hand grab her butt and squeeze hard, that was the beginning of the end of any equilibrium.

It signaled the beginning of more hands touching, squeezing, groping any bit of her flesh that was not covered by the long silk skirt or the metal bikini. And then her hands were uncuffed and grabbed, forced to grip some alien's hard cock and jerk him off.

She remembered hearing Jabba's laugh as her reluctant hand was pulled back and forth and her own exposed body was groped. She recalled the moans and grunts of the creature, the loud cry when he erupted his sticky, smelly seed into her hand and laughed loudly at her look of disgust.

Thankfully, that had been the end of the parade. Jabba called her over to his dias, her hands were cleaned, and the entourage settled back into their routine of talking and drinking and eating. But many of them made their way to Jabba, talking, and would leer down at her and make crude gestures.

No training had ever addressed anything like this. The physicality made everything they said real. The groping make the descriptions of the future crystal clear. And though she was able to appear calm and submissive, she was horrified inside.

They would do what they said.

They would wait for Luke and take him captive too. Then they would rape her - over and over and over again - in front of Luke and Han and Chewie. Finally Jabba would kill them, and enjoy his prize. And even though Lando was here undercover, there would be little he could do to save them or her.

So she had resolved to take the pills, should it all fall to pieces.

Leia felt her throat clench, tears wanting to well up at the thought of ending her own life. She didn't want that fate.

She wanted to live and return to the rebellion to continue the fight. They were getting closer all the time. More and more planets and people were coming together. The tipping point was more possible now than it had ever been. The work she'd trained her whole life for - the fight she'd had such passion for - she wanted so desperately to see it all through. The dream her late father had had, she needed to make reality.

She wanted to live to see what kind of future there could be for her and Han. He was alive, for now, but she had no idea what after effect the carbon freezing might bring. There could be horrible suffering, there could be good health, or something in between. All she had to hang on to was the fact that he understood her and loved her, as damaged as she was. His love was an incredible gift.

It could not be that her life would end here, in this vile hole.

It could not be that she and Han would die without ever finding out where their love could take them. Could the universe be still be so cruel?

Closing her eyes for a moment, she breathed slowly to calm herself. In and out. In and out. She needed all her wits about her here, ears and eyes open. It would not do do brood and cry in public, sprawled on Jabba in front of all his friends.

Not all her control was gone. She could still decide the nature of her thoughts, no matter that she had a slave collar round her neck.

Ruthlessly, Leia decided she would not show any weakness. No matter what was said to her, she would not break. And unless and until they captured Luke and assaulted her as was promised, she would not show any reaction if they touched her.

She felt horrified and disgusted on the inside, even fearful. But Leia could call on her Ice Princess persona to get her through the worst treatment. Jabba and his minions would not see her falter.

_I refuse to give them that satisfaction._


	38. Disgust

He couldn't afford to get drunk, but by God he wished he could take the time to intoxicate himself to forgetfulness.

On the narrow cot in the room he shared with another guard, Lando tossed and turned in the dark, unable to sleep.

Awoken a couple hours earlier, when Han and Leia were captured, he'd had to get dressed and go down to the security room where the camera monitors and computers were kept. Jabba wanted his new slave taped, so he could watch her over and over again.

Lando did as he was instructed, not wanting to draw attention to himself with any questions or protestations. He'd gotten the equipment ready for when Bib Fortuna - how he hated that fucker! - brought Leia out. Waiting in the security room for what was called the slave parade to start.

He had never seen anything like it before, and he'd seen - and done - some strange things. The young woman, stripped of the bounty hunter costume, now dressed in a gold-colored metal bikini top and long purple skirt that revealed too much and left far too little to the imagination.

Watching the proceedings on video, Lando had never felt more disgusted with himself in his life.

The second he saw Leia in her new outfit, belly bared, luscious breasts he'd only imagined now impressively put on display, he felt himself getting excited. And as he watched her be pulled around the room, saw the criminal entourage grab and grope her, he got even harder. To his horror, he found himself wishing he was down there too, having her petite hand stroke him like she was being forced to do to that alien, a species he didn't recognize.

He had screamed at himself in his mind, desperate to have his urges and wishes wiped away without a trace of ever having been there.

_You are a pig! A vile, foul fuck! She loves Han! And Jabba's enslaved her, she doesn't want this! When have you ever gotten excited by the unwilling? What the hell is wrong with you?!_

When he first met Leia Organa on Bespin, his mind had immediately jumped to fantasies. He was a connoisseur of beauty, and women, and could easily see how gorgeous she was, despite that dirty white jumpsuit.

But it had become clear very quickly that the Princess was not interested in him at all - because she was with Han. Han Solo! It was beyond understanding. He - Lando - was the sophisticated, cultured one. The one who had access to everything she'd ever known in her royal life! And _she_ wanted that smuggler who had maybe two credits to his name on a good day! Hell, Han could barely keep his ship together. It was almost too much to tolerate. He'd hoped Vader would let him keep her, once he'd done what he needed to do in Bespin. At the time, Lando thought could win her over, if Han was out of the way.

But none of that had happened. Lando had been lucky to escape Bespin with his life after double-crossing Darth Vader. The only option he really had - accompanied by a very persuasive ton of guilt over Han's fate - was to try to make amends by saving his old pal's life.

And he knew very well by now that no matter what happened here, even if Han died, Leia would never, ever be his. Never.

He had sat at the desk and sighed, pressing his hands over his eyes, wanting to erase what he'd seen Jabba's people do to Leia. What he'd wanted to do himself. He had felt slightly nauseated, but not enough to puke up his own grotesqueness.

The audio function worked well to pick up all kinds of comments and suggestions. Lando knew what was going on without having to see any of what was still going on. And it was all arousing and disgusting at the same time.

Finally he was able to shut the damn monitor and recorder off and head back into his room in defeat.

He sat up in bed, and rested his aching head in his hands. Just as he would never be able to erase the memory of Han being frozen in carbon, neither would he be able to forget the sight of Leia in her slave outfit - and his reactions to it.

Would he ever be able to look at her again, in normal attire, and not feel disgusted with himself? Would she suspect? Would Han, whose instincts and observational skills were well honed, be able to guess? And Luke Skywalker, Jedi knight. With his ability in the Force, surely he would be able to sense something was off.

Reaching into the pocket of his pants, he pulled out the small comm that Luke had given him the day he left to start this undercover gig. On the screen was message, sent just after Leia and Han were captured. A series of numbers referring to the year, month, date, and standard time Luke planned to start his part of the show.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow afternoon. Actually, it was today now. Today at noon standard. A few hours from now.

He had to get some sleep! Who knew what would happen when Luke showed up. He needed to be rested and ready for anything. The best laid plans can go all wrong, as they already knew.

Lando crawled under the covers, praying that it would all be over by this afternoon. The five of them plus the droids safely back at the Falcon.

The Hutt and his fucking hellhole blown to bits.

Too bad his memories of the past few hours couldn't be destroyed along with Jabba.

* * *

**Author's note: There's nothing in the movie to say just how much time passed from when Leia and Han were caught, to when Luke shows up. It's the middle of the night when Leia frees Han, and the sun is high in the sky when Luke shows up. So I'm going with about 12 hrs here. **


	39. Tatooine Dreams - Han

**Author's note: Sorry this is so late! Been out of town, work, and then computer problems! Ack! Glad to be back.**

**We've had a few dreams from Leia, but now that Han is awake, he's dreaming too. Enjoy!**

* * *

_The galley was cleaned, dirty dinner dishes washed and leftovers put away. Han was enjoying a small glass of his favored Corellian whiskey, and the presence of his princess. _

_After his foolish behavior of a few days ago - ignoring Leia, telling her he never really cared about her in an attempt to get her to hate him - it had been all screwed up in his mind that he was protecting her - they were interacting in a way he hoped would become a new "normal". At least for the remainder of the flight to Bespin. _

_She was sitting close to him at the holochess table, practically in his lap. Leia drank her own glass of whiskey and leaned her head against his shoulder. Han pressed his face into her hair, reveling in the feel of its silkiness against his skin. He could smell the faint, sweet scents of flowers from the shampoo Leia used. _

_Damn, it felt so good to sit with her like this! Talking freely as they had earlier. Laughing with her at some old stories of his and Chewie's adventures. Arguing, even. Everything between them had begun with comments and barbs and irritations, from the very first minute they met! How could they not argue? And he loved every second of it, even when she really, truly was mad at him. _

_But he wanted more. _

_For so long he had struggled with wanting more with Leia and wondering if it could ever happen. It seemed they always moved one step forward, two steps back. Worse, at times, better at others. On Ord Mantell, he could tell things were progressing in a way they never had before. He'd felt so hopeful. _

_Until they'd encountered that fucking bounty hunter. Seeing Leia in danger, knowing it was his fault and his alone was like a hard punch to the gut. He had to leave the Rebellion as soon as he could. There wasn't any other choice. He had to leave her, had to hurt Leia even more, and despised himself for it. _

_But life always had a way of handing him surprises. _

_Here was one more chance. _

_Even though it scared him half to death, being out in space without a working hyperdrive, Han was grateful his ship clunked along solely because it gave them time. What had had happened in the circuitry bay seemed to have opened Leia up, made her more receptive to him than he ever imagined, especially after the disaster of Ord Mantell._

_He ran his fingers through her soft locks, smiling to himself about the night they danced right here. Her dream ball. Leia surprised the hell out of him with her sudden bold and teasing turn. Han truly had not thought she'd go for it, dancing with him like she had. Even though he knew she was thinking about that kiss every time she looked at him, Han thought she would lock those feelings away, shut them down as she usually did. Politely decline and spend the night in her cabin._

_But she didn't. Boy, did she ever turn the tables on him! And he was happier that night that he could ever remember being. Holding her in his arms, twirling and swaying to the music. Wishing he could stay with her like that forever. _

_Her bold, sweet kisses that night turned him on like never before with any other woman. Gods how he had wanted to take her to his bed! But something told him she wasn't ready. At least not that evening. _

_What about now? Tonight? Could it be? _

_He'd been ready for Leia for months. Years, in fact._

_Over two years ago, a new female private from Chandrilla - gorgeous Amira San - hit on him. Tall, slender, long silky blonde hair. The kind of looks that usually attracted him. And it had been a few months since he'd been with a woman. But to his astonishment, he was not interested. Not at all. And since that day, there had been plenty more new female recruits and officers who had chased him. Futilely. _

_All he wanted was Leia, then and now. The idea of being with any other woman - even for just one night - was repellent to him. So for two years he'd found his release alone. And for two years he'd dreamed of her, and only her._

_Now that she was here and receptive - more willing and open and eager than she'd ever been - Han could hardly wait any longer to show her just how much he cared for her. He could feel his desire for her running through his blood, starting to set him on fire. _

_He put his empty glass on the table and pressed his lips to her temple. "Leia," he murmured against her cheek. She turned her face towards him and he bent his head to capture her lips in a passionate kiss. "Leia," he whispered hoarsely, "I want you." Han pulled her gently onto his lap and held her in his arms for a moment, before kissing the corner of her mouth. "Gods, do I want to make love to you."_

_He heard her sigh as he lightly nipped his way from her ear, nibbling her jaw and running his hands down her back and sides. "I know, Han. I - I want that too." He smiled to himself, hearing the throatiness of her voice. Loving the fact he could arouse and excite her, and that she wasn't afraid to feel those things, or be too shy to express them to him._

_Then he felt her pull back and tense slightly. "__But I can't. I can't have sex with you. Not now."_

_"It's that time, is it?"_

_She shook her head. "No, no that's not it." Han felt disappointed at Leia slipping off his lap and back onto the bench. He was colder, emptier without her. He bit his lip and paused, not wanting to come off angry or pressure her to do something she wasn't ready for. "You say you want me, too, Leia. But you can't?" he asked as gently as he could._

_Her words came in out in a rush. "My implant's expired, and I can't take the risk. I just-" her voice cracked slightly but she pressed on, never looking at him. "I can't bring a baby into a war, and I couldn't - couldn't - terminate. There's so much blood on my hands, I couldn't."_

_If ever his heart broke for her, if ever he desperately wanted to take away all her pain, now was the moment. Han looked over at Leia, who studiously avoided his gaze by staring at the bottle of whiskey. He watched as she swallowed hard and closed her eyes. _

_Responsible Leia, taking on so much that wasn't hers. He could hardly be mad at her for not wanting to risk pregnancy and be faced with needing to terminate it. As a younger man, the flippancy with which some of his partners treated the idea of aborting an unwanted child bothered him, but not enough to stop him from bedding them. And today they were at war. How could a responsible person bring a child into such dangers? It would be madness. _

_But she was not, and never had been, responsible for Alderaan. Not in his mind. This was not the first time she'd mentioned it, although all the other times she'd been buzzed enough to allow a break in that iron control. A crack, however small, in the Ice Princess persona. He felt rather astonished at her sober admission. _

_How in the galaxy could he help her see she was not at fault? Could anyone? Gods knew he cared about her, more than his own life. _

_He had to try. Say something. _

_"Leia, look at me," he said softly, resting a hand lightly on her shoulder. "Please."_

_To his surprise, she lifted her head to face him. She looked impossibly young for everything that had happened to her. Those big brown eyes, filled with sadness and hope and guilt all mixed together. And in that moment he knew he would never love anyone but her. _

_"Alderaan was not your fault," Han murmured, cupping her cheeks with his hands so she could not look away. "That is not your responsibility. It's Tarkin's and Vader's. Not yours." His throat tightened as he saw the wet sheen in her eyes spill over. Han could not recall a time he'd seen her cry when she was completely sober. Watching her now was like a knife twisting in his heart. "Not yours, Leia." He leaned forward and pressed a light kiss to her tear-stained cheek. "Never, ever yours," he said softly, wiping the other cheek with the pad of his thumb. _

_Instead of running away, as he expected, Leia leaned into his chest and wept quietly, her small body shuddering against his. _

_Wanting a more comfortable - and private - space for her to cry, Han scooped Leia up in his arms and carried her bridal-style to his cabin. _

_ It was certainly not the way he had envisioned the evening progressing. _

_He had hoped, dreamed of far more physically pleasurable pursuits. But Han really could not complain. Because for the first time, Leia was letting him in. She was sharing her pain - something he had never seen her do with anyone, not even Luke. Better still, she was trusting him and allowing him to comfort her. To take care of her. _

_Unless she was drunk, she was in control. __Always._

_Leia let her guard down for no one. _

_Except now, except him. He would die rather than let her down._

_Han palmed his door and entered his cabin. Leia didn't seem to notice, still crying and lying limply in his arms. He walked over to his bunk and sat down, cradling her in his arms. Women's tears usually bothered him, but he wasn't troubled by them now. The pain he felt for Leia washed away all his discomfort. _

_She spoke so quietly he almost didn't hear her. "I don't deserve this," she sniffled._

_"What don't you deserve?"_

_"This." Leia gestured vaguely with her hand. "Someone taking care of me. Someone being kind to me." She sounded so tired to his ears. So weary. _

_Han ran a hand gently through her hair. "Yes, you do."_

_"No, I don't." And then to his astonishment, Leia turned and grabbed his shoulders, shaking him as hard as she could. _

* * *

"Leia, why are you shaking me so hard?" he mumbled. Then he jerked awake, the smells of their cell bringing him back to the reality of Jabba's palace. He coughed, hoping to not puke like he had the other day.

[Wake up, cub. Things are about to happen,] Chewie murmured gruffly, releasing his shoulder.

"Huh?" Han whispered, stifling a yawn as he tried to stretch his aching back. Even with a few hours sleep, he felt no better than yesterday. "How do you know? Someone come down here and issue you an invitation?"

[Because Luke's here. That's how I know.]

[Even in all this muck and filth, I can smell him.]


	40. I Must Be Allowed to Speak

It was a place Luke had promised Aunt Beru over and over again he'd never, ever enter.

Ever.

Yet here he was, walking into the throne room of Jabba's palace.

He'd also sworn to his aunt many times that he would never do any kind of business with Hutts or their ilk - yet he had offered a trade of sorts to Jabba.

Honestly, Luke had broken all sorts of promises to his late aunt in the past few years. Lying, cheating, stealing, consorting with criminals - he'd done all these things in his work with the rebellion, and had no regrets about any of it.

He'd killed people, too. Thousands of them perished when his shot took out the first Death Star. At the time, the Empire had put out whatever propaganda they could after the massive destruction, hoping to gain some sympathy in the galaxy. They named the names. Every last one of them, that had a name, that was. Their deaths had not mattered to him at all that day, or many, many days after. And he'd known, if Aunt Beru was still alive, she would have had little regret for their loss of life.

It was probable he would be adding to that number, by killing more creatures today. Luke had no direct experience with Hutts, but from Han and Chewie's stories of life in the criminal underworld, it was highly unlikely Jabba would simply allow him to negotiate for Han's release. He expected a fight of sorts, and he was as prepared for the unknown as possible.

All was not lost. If Lando had done his job, and Luke felt confident he had, there would be a minimum of guards on hand today. Those not in the palace were at the pod races in Mos Eisley. They would be in no shape to hurry back to the palace after indulging in the potent alcoholic swill sold so cheaply at the races.

Fewer people to get in his way. Easier all around.

So far, it had been quick.

Dispatching the Gamorrean guards with a flick of his hand.

Responding to the babblings of the albino Twi'lek with a strong, commanding request. _You will take me to Jabba now_. Bib Fortuna was a creature so simple to manipulate. But the Hutt would not be.

Luke followed the Twi'lek into the main room, focusing inward and outward at the same time. Inward to calm himself, outward to feel the room and the creatures in it. Sensing threats. There were plenty of those. Bounty hunters - including the one who had taken Han from Bespin. Boba Fett. There was fair amount of intelligence on Fett and his activities in Rebel databanks. He was ruthless, determined, and well equipped. And with an Imperial bounty on his head and Leia's, Luke had to be on high alert.

In the middle of the room, illuminated by the white glow from the skylight, he stood in his black cape, hood pulled foward to obscure his face. Leia sat in front of him, tensed, sitting as far away from Jabba as she could. A twinge of anger for what she had endured flickered in his heart, but was quickly doused. Now was not the time.

He watched as the Twi'lek woke the Hutt. This was as close as he'd gotten to the foul creatures since his teens. It was by sheer luck - or maybe the Force - that he and his buddies had not been caught spying on the Hutts and their slave entourages during pod races all those years ago.

It would be by the Force that he would execute his part of the mission successfully. Friends rescued, a criminal enterprise decimated.

But first, his opening salvo. A calm, authoritative tone of voice. One of the basics of getting the mind trick to work.

_I must be allowed to speak. _


	41. Maybe

**Author's note: RIP Carrie Fisher. She was an ass-kicking princess, and woman. The real deal. She will be missed. **

* * *

"Are you sure he's really here? Sure your super sense of smell is working?" Han rasped.

[Yes, cub. I know he's here. This place smells even worse than the fresher in the Falcon when it's clogged, but I know Luke's scent. I've been around him long enough.]

"Yeah, yeah."

It didn't seem real, that Luke was the golden boy, a one man invasion into the heart of Jabba's palace. A Jedi Knight. A Jedi! The last Han had seen Luke doing any of that Force stuff was the day they met. Old Ben Kenobi and his woo-woo. The naive farm kid getting his ass zapped as he tried - mostly unsuccessfully - to block the blasts from that floating ball with some kind of lightsaber he could barely wield.

The idea was so far fetched, it defied understanding.

And yet - yet - there was a tiny sliver inside Han that sprang up. He'd been in dangerous situations before - the asteroid field, for one. And made it through with flying colors. The famous Solo luck.

_Never tell me the odds. _

Unless and until all options were shot to hell, he would try to keep a little hope that whatever Luke cooked up would work.

But it was hard. Real hard. He just couldn't imagine it. Maybe he needed to take faith in Chewie's -

"Shit. I know that sound." Han froze, listening closely.

Chewie growled in agreement as they both heard, over the calls and jeers suddenly breaking out from above, a creaking and loud metallic clanging.

_That_ door. Opening to let out the rancor.

They'd both been in Jabba's throne room when the Hutt had dropped whomever was currently pissing him off into the pit. Neither he nor Chewie had ever leaned in close to try to see through the metal grid floor. The screams were enough to give any creature nightmares. There was no need to watch.

"Fuck! Is Luke down there?"

Chewie did not answer, but simply gripped his shoulder tightly.

In tense silence, they listened as closely as possible. Han's stomach was churning with every growl from the rancor, every shout from the throne room. If Luke was in that pit, what could be coming except their doom? How in the galaxy could he get past the rancor? There was no way out of that pit. And there would be no way out of Jabba's palace.

[Cub - listen], Chewie murmured, low. [No one's cheering any more.]

"Huh?" But it was true. There was no cheering. Instead, sounds and shouts of anger filtered down from above. And the faint sound of crying - _crying?_ \- coming from somewhere outside their cell.

Han heard the unmistakable sound of metal clinking against metal, swearing in a language other than Basic. Then the door to their cell opened with a crash.

"Get up, you scum," the brutish voice of a guard rasped as he grabbed Han's arm and yanked him to his feet. Han stumbled a bit, trying to brace himself against the creature so as not to fall into the muck on the floor of the cell. "Jabba wants you. Now!"

He was pushed out of the cell, into a hallway. Han blinked his eyes a few times, wondering if his sight had improved. Stumbling along the uneven stone floor, it appeared what he was seeing seemed brighter all of a sudden. Voices stirred in anger, and he was able to make out what happened from their grumblings.

Luke had killed the rancor.

Luke. Naive farm boy. Had somehow killed that thing. It was an outcome Han had definitely not expected. How had he done it? The Force? If it wasn't that, then the kid had really gained some skills in the past several months.

Maybe - just maybe - this could work. Maybe they could get out.

Maybe.

He had no idea what the kid had planned now. Probably was going to have to wing it, like they'd done in tight spots in the past. And survived.

Whatever was going to happen next, Han hoped like hell it would work.


	42. I WILL Kill You

She'd spent the last few months on Tatoonie, hating the dry, the heat, the endless gritty sand that mixed with sweat and glued itself to every wrinkle and bodily crevice, every single crack. Yet after less than twenty-four standard hours in the damp, rank dive that was Jabba's palace, Leia felt she had never seen anything as welcome as the vast ocean of sand dunes they were flying over.

Depending on the outcome of the next several minutes, she might regret standing at the open hatch, looking out across the dunes to see Luke, Han and Chewy - and Lando - on the prisoner transport. If they all made it out alive, the bites of the sand fleas would turn her skin into an itchy, bumpy rash that would last several days. If they did not survive - well, this would be her last opportunity to see Han, even if it was from a distance.

He was standing, she noted, his lean body swaying a little with the movement of the transport. She could make out his head turning, facing Luke, their mouths moving. What were they talking about? Not any escape plan, surely. There was a guard right behind them who would hear. They would never be so irresponsible as to knowingly let a guard know their true ruse.

Besides, Han's eyesight hadn't returned yet. If it had, he would not have asked "Where's Leia" when he was pushed into the throne room. What would he be able to do to help Luke, when he couldn't see to aim a blaster or any other weapon they could grab? What if he moved too close to the edge of the transport and tumbled into the Sarlacc pit? No, right now he was too limited. And someone else would need to keep an eye and arm out for him. That left the burden of escaping to Lando and Luke.

Mostly Luke.

And perhaps that was unfair to Lando. The man had, after all, left his home under duress with only the clothes on his back. Until the Empire was defeated, he could not go back to Bespin. Nor could he access most of his accounts. He'd spent several months helping Chewy chase Boba Fett and Han around the galaxy, with plenty of close calls and firefights. Lando was no slouch. But Leia still could not look at him and not recall the surreal horror of seeing a slab of carbonite rise from that pit, hearing the thunk echo in her heart as it hit the platform. It didn't matter that she knew, had she been in his shoes, she would have done anything to protect her people from Vader. Lando had been a victim, too. Sighing softly to herself, Leia wondered briefly if she would ever be able to let it go.

The chain around her neck jerked suddenly. Leia turned her head and glared at Jabba, but he was distracted, talking to Boba Fett. Facing the window again, she eyed Han.

Even if they made it, there was still so much that could go wrong. Han could have aftereffects of the carbonite. He could die. They all could die in other battles, especially in the huge operation that was starting to take form just as she left. They could survive today, only to meet death and carnage tomorrow, or next week, or next month.

If she could have even a few more moments with Han, she would take them. No matter how many or how few, she wanted them desperately.

Regrets were a waste of time, but Leia couldn't help wishing all the time they'd spent at each other's throats the last three years had been spent in other ways. Better ways. The journey to Bespin had been challenging. Amazing. Wonderful. Leia sent up a silent prayer that there would be more time. Much, much more.

_Please let Luke find a way out of this._

And then Jabba gave the chain a good, hard yank, dragging her across the room to stand in front of him, almost touching his slimy belly. Leia swallowed bile as he leered at her and made some rude comment in Huttese. If they didn't make it, she knew what was coming for her.

Rape, or suicide. Either way, her dreams would be dead. Her life would be over.

She twisted her hands in knots to control her rage.

Leia would not go down without a fight. Ever. She stared back into those vile yellow eyes, speaking without saying a word.

_I will kill you, even if it's the last fucking thing I ever do. _


	43. We've Got You

**Author's note: We are skipping through the fight over the sarlacc pit and going right to what happens on the transport on the way back to the Falcon &amp; Ben Kenobi's home. I just do not have the patience to sit and watch the fight scenes over and over 25+ times to pick up all the nuances. And you all know what happens there, anyway . . . it's great as it is. How could I possibly improve on it? **

**Now we are getting a little more AU. Recovering from carbonite freezing won't be quick and easy for my Han.**

* * *

"Oh, Gods," Han groaned, trying to breathe deep, attempting to relax away the pain. But all he could manage was little gasps and pants as his stomach burbled and shuddered. He felt terrible.

One minute he was dangling over the edge of the transport, one hand gripping Lando's staff, the other shooting a blaster at a Sarlacc tentacle that he could very faintly see. The next, he was back on the transport, sitting by Chewie, trying to tend him - and feeling the start of something. The not good kind of something.

He'd used stim and bacta patches before. But, according to Chewie, he'd been out of action for several months. These patches might be a new and improved version. Or maybe it was that he was in the roughest shape of his life.

The theory was to have the stim wake the system up, and the bacta helped make that process less - well, stimulating. He'd been starting to feel a whole lot of activity ramping up, to the point where he was so overwhelmed with pain he collapsed to the floor of the transport just seconds after Luke and Leia boarded.

Leia!

Did he actually say her name out loud, or was it only in his head? Han closed his eyes and curled up in a ball, shivering. He thought he heard Leia speaking, thought he felt someone touch his head.

It was faint, but if he was in any shape to bet, he would have sworn he heard her cry out "Han! Can you hear me?" She was close to him now, he could sense that much.

But even her voice, calling his name, could not really penetrate through the ringing in his ears, or the pounding in his head. She existed on his periphery, like a shadow. He wanted to turn to her, take her in his arms and never, ever let go. He simply couldn't move from where he lay on the prisoner transport. Gods did he wish he could either puke or have someone put him out of his misery. It was horrible.

_It's like the worst hangover I ever had, times a thousand._

Han gritted his teeth as another wave of nausea washed through him, leaving his entire body shaking. He didn't want to, but he couldn't help crying out. Never before in his life did he remember feeling so much pain. If only he could bring something up - anything! He so badly needed to vomit, but it just would not come.

_At least I know where I am, and who's with me. Don't have to worry about anyone robbing me or beating me up. They'll take care of me. _

Han tried to focus outward, away from the agony of his internal organs. Concentrate on sounds, and sensations. But he was too far gone. His stomach clutched. The slow upward creep of acidic bile in the back of his throat made him want to gag.

"Oh Gods, it burns!" he managed, between coughing and spluttering on the foulness.

A voice shouted close to him. "Chewie, lift him up! He could choke if he pukes lying down!"

And large hands pulled him up to rest on his hands and knees, remaining round his middle to help support him. There was no way he had the strength to spare to hold himself up.

Han tried to breathe. "Leia," he gasped. "Leia."

"I'm here, Han." For some reason, he could really hear her now. A tiny hand stroked his back through his shirt. "I know it hurts, baby. You've got to bring this up. But's it's going to be all right. We've got you, Han. We've got you."

Han closed his eyes and nodded, panting, feeling sticky sweat trickly down his face.

The last thing he heard before all his energy and attention was focused on vomiting, was Goldenrod's translation of R2D2's beeping.

"He says you all should have seen Mistress Leia! She strangled Jabba with her own chain!"

* * *

**Author's note. I'm using two of my own experiences to build Han's suffering - my own horrible 21st birthday hangover, and the one time I got some stomach virus and kept puking and had to go to the ER to get it to stop. Luckily I was only there for a few hours. Fun times. **

**Han won't die from carbonite in my story (and the likely sequel) but he's got some more trials to deal with. **


	44. Medbay Memories

**Author's note: ****In my world, Han is too sick to give Luke his send off that we see in ROTJ.**

* * *

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

Any other time in her life, Leia would have been beyond patience with that infernal, high pitched sound repeating itself once every standard second or so. Her nerves would be shot to hell, and the machine would be smashed into tiny bits of glass and dura-plast.

But not today. Not now.

That sound was _life_. It was joy. It was exhilaration.

Beeping meant Han was not dead.

It also represented bone-chilling _fear_. Beeping meant Han was not anything close to well. Not at all.

He lay so still on the bunk in the medbay of the Falcon, on his back but somewhat elevated in case he woke and needed to vomit again. Eyes closed, lips parched, the skin cracked, mouth slightly open. Once they'd gotten the puking to stop, she and Luke and Chewie had stripped Han of his filthy, reeking clothes and tried to give him a rudimentary cleaning with a bacta topical gel. But, even though unconscious, Han shivered and shook so hard with cold, they had no choice but to stop. Leia could only hope that what gel they had applied to his arms, legs, and torso would counteract any effects of melted carbonite residue absorbing into the skin.

A regulating blanket now covered Han from toes to neck, its sensors reading his body every minute and adjusting its own temperature up or down. Really, he needed to be in a temperature chamber, but that kind of equipment was not anything she'd ever expected to get. When she left the rebellion, there had been only thirty such chambers on Home One for the few thousand people on that ship.

If she hadn't been watching closely, if the beeping wasn't an audial reminder, Leia wouldn't be sure if Han was still breathing. But he was, thank all the Gods in this galaxy and any other. The rise and fall of his chest was so small sometimes, she wondered if she was imagining things. Then that annoying, blessed sound would jolt her back into awareness that he _was_ still with her. Even when he looked like death.

When she'd freed him, when he was brought up from the lower level cells - even when he was standing in the sun on the transport - Han had mostly looked like himself, before he was frozen. Darkly tanned, clean skin, thick russet colored hair, well built and tall. Now he was starting to look like he was deteriorating. She'd applied some of the bacta topical gel to his face and hair a short while ago, after Luke had left and the Falcon had taken off for Sullust. So far, Han's hair had done nothing except get very stiff. But the skin of his face had now turned pale, a sickly sort of whitish grey. There was a flake like texture that reminded her of a bad sunburn set to peel. If it was dead skin already making way for new, healthy growth, then that bacta gel was a medical miracle. But that was not all.

Han was - shrinking. Yes, that was the right word to describe it. The shape of his face, the planes and angles of it were sharper and more pronounced than they had been since yesterday when she'd freed him. It was as if his body was finally becoming aware it had had no sustenance for months, and was catching up to starvation. She could only administer one intravenous fluid at a time, and for now it was the blood cleaner mixed with a strong anti-nausea medication. That had been the only way to stop his vomiting.

For the time it would take them to fly from Tatooine to Sullust, this blanket, the Falcon's fairly advanced medical monitor - and all the bacta supplies - were what Leia would use to care for Han. To keep him alive until they reached the rebellion. Thank Gods they were on the move, having made the jump to hyperspace almost thirty standard minutes ago.

She was absolutely terrified.

So many scenarios run with the med droids on Home One. As much study as on carbonite freezing as she could find, including that horrible, incomplete medical assessment. She'd learned to administer the new bacta products and their various side effects.

And now it was all real. Han was right here. The medical data wasn't theory any more. It was practice now, with potentially devastating consequences. And so much that was unknown.

_"In the end, Princess Leia, the absolute best thing will be to get him back to the fleet as soon as possible. Your medical monitor is good, but no comparison to what we can do here. And as you know, there is far too much in the medical history that is inconclusive. We cannot predict how Han will react to anything."_

Those were the unsettling words from the med droids, in the days before she left for Tatooine.

Inconclusive.

For a moment, Leia allowed herself to be swamped with memories of the days shortly after Alderaan was destroyed.

It was, barring losing Han, the absolute worst time of her life.

Gone.

Ended.

Her father, her mother, her silly aunts. Lives stopped in seconds.

Cousins, friends, teachers.

Art. Literature. History. Forests. Gardens. Birds singing. A world of beauty and freedom destroyed.

Everything that mattered to her was no more. It was all dead rocks and debris hurtling through space.

She'd wanted to die every second since she knew what Tarkin and Vader would do that day. Yet all the despair she'd felt then would be nothing compared to what would happen if she lost Han now.

In a way, he had saved her, from what she would have become had she not finally trusted him - and herself - enough to let him in on the way to Bespin.

If he didn't make it, what would be the point? She could move through each day a shell of herself, just like she had after Alderaan - except there would no longer be an annoyingly complex scoundrel to challenge her every time she turned around. Eventually the rebellion wouldn't be enough to keep her alive. Even Luke - her friend and confidant, now speeding through space on his way to Dagobah - wouldn't be enough to tether her to life. She would just - fade away.

_Why can't you think of what could happen if he makes it? Isn't that also a possible outcome? What if you could have the promise of the trip to Bespin again?_

Leia made a noise that might have been a laugh or a sob. She didn't know, and didn't care. If she could remember how awful it felt after Alderaan, she could also enjoy - for a little while, anyway - re-living one of the most precious memories she had of Han.

* * *

_On the way to Bespin_

_Leia sat at the holochess table, data pad in hand, scrolling through and updating a list of contacts she had for weapons procurement. There was so little she could do right now, as she was unable to link into the Alliance databases. But this was something she'd needed to do for a while and had not had the time._

_But she wasn't seeing the info. She was seeing Han._

_It had been a good couple of days for them, since his odd, dismissive behavior and subsequent apology._

_Yes, there were things that would have to be dealt with. Han was still planning on leaving to pay off Jabba - and going alone. Leia was still arguing with him about payments and going along. But they were still weeks away from Bespin, and weeks more away from the rebellion. She wanted to enjoy herself. She wanted to feel unencumbered by worry about the future and guilt about the past, if only for a few days._

_So she'd agreed with Han to drop the arguments - for now, and to try to embrace the present._

_Smiling to herself, she realized she felt good. Better, in fact, than she had in years._

_Last night, she'd slept in the same bed with Han for the very first time. Nothing sexual, just cuddling and sleeping. It was the most relaxing thing she never imagined. Lying together with Han in his bunk, both of them clad in thick night wear and wrapped up tight in blankets to keep out the cold. Resting her head on his chest and torso, with his strong arms wrapped around her, talking of almost anything or nothing was blissful._

_And she'd slept soundly for nearly eight hours, uninterrupted by nightmares, until she felt Han's morning erection pressing into her lower back as he spooned around her._

_"Hey, Your Worship, I can't help it!" he'd groggily exclaimed when she'd teased him about it. "I've got a beautiful princess in my bed!"_

_"And how many women have you used that line on?" she'd snorted, laughing as she sat up and looked at him. She knew Han had a history with women. And it didn't matter to her now, if it ever had. All the things he'd said to her on this trip, the things he'd done - she had almost no experience with men, but she could tell, could feel, that Han sincerely, truly cared about her. She would stake her life on her gut instinct that she wasn't simply another name to add to a list. _

_To her surprise, Han didn't respond in kind. He gave her a look that was partly hurt but full of what struck her as longing._

_"Only you, Leia. Only you," he'd whispered, reaching up to trace her lips with a finger. "Only ever you."_

_And then she'd been pulled toward him like a ship stuck in a tractor beam, drowning in the intensity radiating from those golden eyes. She hadn't cared in that moment that she was sprawled ungracefully over his chest, or that her hair was a disastrous tangle - or even that she had morning breath. She only had one desperate need - to meld her lips to his._

_The kiss - oh Gods, that kiss! So soft and gentle at first, so light and delicate. It was as if Han was sampling her, and she him. Small tastings. A nibble here, a little nip there. She smiled and sighed his name. Han. And that sound was a trigger, turning sweet kisses into a raging fire. Han had growled and pulled her tight against his hard, ready body, ravishing her mouth with his. She shivered, hard, but not with cold. The sound of her own voice loudly moaning his name had woken her mind to where she was. _

_"I - I think I'd better get up now," she'd stuttered, blushing, rolling off Han and sitting on the edge of the bed. She'd forced herself to meet his eyes. "I - Han - you make me wish I was ready for more."_

_Then he'd grinned at her, that same half cocked smile that used to infuriate her, but now made her want to laugh. "We aim to please, sweetheart." He'd winked at her, and she'd shook her head and rolled her eyes. _

_Coming back to the present, she slammed her hand lightly against the holochess table. __Damn that man! He was so - distracting! There was no point in doing any more work with this data. She turned off the pad, and went in search of a scoundrel._

_Walking down the main corridor, she felt a little silly. It seemed so girlish and even foolish to abandon work just because she wanted to see a man. This was not a kind of feeling or behavior she had any experience with. But so little in her life the past three years had gone according to any plan. She certainly hadn't expected to be attracted to any man during this war, let alone act on those feelings. _

_Ever since that first kiss, and the dream ball evening, sometimes she thought she was running headlong into pain and loss, what with Han's determination to leave to pay off that gangster. Who knew what happen then? But she couldn't help it. Couldn't do a thing to stop it. It was as if her decision to act on her feelings for Han had burned down any emotional walls she'd built since Alderaan was destroyed. _

_The sound of music floated down the hall, and Leia smiled to herself. Aunt Rouge had loved the band Han had playing. _

_"Oh Leia, dear, it was the most exciting time! The press referred to The Beatles coming to Alderaan as the Chandrilan invasion! Although why they called themselves after a nasty little bug - but the music! And they were so handsome - Paul especially. If the Organa family had not been high ranking, it would have been very difficult to get a ticket to their concerts. People waited in lines for days to pay hundreds of credits!"_

_A clank of metal on metal startled her, and Leia looked up to see Han spin around in a kind of dance move. His rich baritone mixed with the recording. _

"_Whoah, we danced through the night, _

_And we held each other tight,_

_And before too long I fell in love with her. _

_Now I'll never dance with another - whooo!_

_Since I saw her standing there."_

_Leia's mouth fell open in shock. She'd never heard Han sing. Ever. She didn't know he could. And he sounded really good. Better than some popular singers of the day. _

_She stepped closer, but Han didn't seem to notice. "I don't think I've ever heard you sing before, flyboy," she said, trying to keep her tone neutral. It was the cutest, sweetest thing she'd ever heard, and she didn't want to mistakenly give the impression she was laughing at him. Han would never, ever do it again - in her presence - if he thought his singing amused her._

_He froze, and slowly turned around to face her, hydrospanner gripped tightly in one hand. Leia could see him swallow, looking unsure of himself. "Uh - how long - have you been -"  
_

_His stuttering was adorable too. "Long enough," she smiled. "I knew you had the moves, but it seems you also have the pipes." _

_"Ah. Well. It's a good song. A classic." _

_"I know. My late Aunt Rouge loved the Beatles." And for some reason, it didn't hurt like she thought it would to share that with anyone. It felt odd - but healing - to tell Han even that much about the family that was gone._

_"Aunt Rogue had good taste in music, then."_

_"Yes, she did." Leia stepped forward. "It's not your normal thing, to break out into song." _

_"When it's just me and Chewie, I might. And like I said, it's good music." There was that grin - except that it wasn't cocky. Han looked happy. "In spite of the mechanical difficulties, things are going well. Better than I imagined."_

_Leia knew exactly what he meant. The two of them. "I couldn't agree more." She went closer, on tip-toe, and gave Han a kiss on the cheek. "I liked your singing, nerf-herder," __she said, grinning at his dumbfounded expression. _

_"You did?" _

_"Well, yes, I just said I did! And you know I don't compliment unless I really mean it."_

_"I know. So - what else do you like about me?"_

_"What! Fishing for more compliments? More than one in day will just inflate that oversized ego." _

_"Hey, Your Beautifulness, you don't compliment often. I'll take what I can get."_

_Leia rolled her eyes as Han put the hydrospanner down and wrapped his arms around her. "Well, you do have good moves," she laughed._

_"I'll show you some moves, sweetheart," Han murmured, bending to kiss her. _

* * *

Smiling through tears, Leia reached up and gently ran a hand over Han's arm, covered in the blanket.

"Don't you dare make me do this without you, nerf-herder," she whispered. "I want to hear you sing again."

* * *

**Author's note - an idea came to me that felt right and I went with it. I don't see Han as a guy who would spend a lot of time singing in general, or make a habit singing to his lady. But I can see him feeling really, really good getting closer to Leia - feeling happy and excited like never before. Thence comes the expressing some of that unexpected joy as he listened to music while he worked in on the Falcon. **


	45. It's Not Your Fault

**Author's note: a reviewer commented on no Jabba death scene from someone's POV. I think that will be a flashback, or perhaps a story someone tells Han in a future chapter. **

* * *

He'd been avoiding them.

There was no arguing about it anymore, considering the fact that the Falcon had made the jump to hyperspace over five standard hours ago.

At first, when the transport had arrived back at Ben Kenobi's place, Lando deliberately stayed out of the way of tending to Han. Unless someone specifically directed him, which Leia and Luke had from time to time. Chewie was strong enough to carry Han when needed, Leia was the one with the medical supplies and knowledge, and Luke had the Force to help manage everything else. It was Lando's job to tend to the ship, check and test it. Make sure everything was running right so they could get out of this sandtrap planet as quickly as possible.

And he'd done that. Ran through his checklist of operations once, and again until Luke and Chewie came out - Luke to say his goodbyes, and Chewie to take the co-pilot chair so they could get going.

So far, all was well mechanically. The hyperdrive was working just as perfectly as it had when they'd escaped Bespin seven months ago. No problems there, or with any other operations, even though the ship had been exposed to high winds and sand for several weeks.

_What a good old girl._

But there was no need for continual monitoring from the cockpit now that they were in hyperspace. Once the jump was completed, Chewie had headed straight back to the medbay to see how Han was doing, if Leia needed anything. The Wookie was currently in the galley, eating his own dinner after having prepared something for the princess.

After having given him a glare that raised the hair on Lando's neck. And a few words.

_Aren't you going to go back and check on them? _

Yes. He was going to do that. He would. But part of him didn't want to. Even after seven months, and all the work he'd done, he still felt swamped with guilt and shame. Watching Han vomit so horribly on the transport - hells, he could _hear_ him earlier today back in the medbay before Leia had gotten him to stop - was awful. "_I did that"_ was the mantra pounding through his mind every time he heard Han groan, choke, gag, or cry out in pain.

Yet here he was, boots clicking on the metal grating as he made his way to the medbay.

Lando coughed a little. Even though they'd disposed of the vomit on Tatooine, along with Han's reeking clothes, it still smelled terrible in this part of the ship. An acrid, burning metallic odor wafted through the corridor, getting stronger the closer he got to Han's bunk. What in the galaxy they could use to fumigate, he had no idea.

And then, there they were.

Leia sat in a chair right next to the bunk, her profile turned towards him. She must have cleaned up a little since the jump to hyperspace - what he could see of her face was free of Jabba's make up and her hair was now in a long braid wrapped around her head. The slave outfit was gone, replaced by black leggings and a long sleeved beige tunic. The only evidence he could see of what had happened to her was a raw, red band on side of her neck where the slave collar must have dug into her skin. Lando winced, thinking of the way Jabba must have jerked her around by that delicate flesh.

He stepped forward, to see his friend better. And by all the Gods, he wished he had not. He clapped a hand to his mouth just in time to cover a horrified gasp. The body that lay in the bunk looked nothing like his friend.

Han reminded him of some of the street people he'd come across in his younger years, before he graduated to higher class cons. The ones who fell victim to drink and spice. The ones who survived day to day by teetering precariously on the edge, and looked it.

Clumps of his hair had fallen out, leaving patches of grey, dry skin exposed. The same was true of his face - an unhealthy color of whitish grey, peeling and flaking off. Maybe that was temporary, a side effect of the bacta gel he knew they had on board. But the worst was the sunken look to his cheeks and eyes, the extreme boniness of his jaw. Han looked worse than the pictures of starving mining slaves he'd seen on the news years ago. And what was under the blanket? If Han's face looked that way, the rest of him must be just as bad.

The medical monitor beeped loudly to signify life, but Han looked closer to death.

"Is he going to make it?" he asked fearfully.

There was a long pause. Minutes, perhaps, before Leia answered in a tight, mechanical voice.

"I don't know."

His eyes widened, and he swallowed with difficulty, his throat suddenly even tighter. Lando reached out to grab the back of Leia's chair for support.

No. No, no, no. No!

This wasn't supposed to happen! They were going to be successful with their mission, Luke said! He'd had Force dreams and visions of the five of them and the droids returning to the Fleet, well and whole. There wasn't supposed to be this - this - living on the edge watching Han barely hang on to life! No!

His fault. This was all his fault. He'd betrayed his friend. If only he'd been strong enough to stand up to Vader. Had the courage to stop the torture, the carbon freezing. But he didn't. For all his outward trappings of success and accomplishment, he was a failure as a man and a human being.

"Princess," he whispered brokenly, "I'm so sorry."

His comment seemed to open a floodgate in the princess. "I want to hate you, Lando Calrissian," she replied quietly still facing Han's bunk. "I wanted to let Chewie strangle you in Bespin. I want to blame you for every bit pain Han endures, every flake of skin. But I can't. It's not your fault."

"Princess - I-" he spluttered, astounded by her words. He'd expected her to blame and hate him. But - was this forgiveness? If it was - no, he didn't deserve that after what had happened.

"Hear me out, please, Lando," Leia said authoritatively as she turned around in her chair to look up at him with those big brown eyes staring into his. "I need to say this. I've had a lot of time to think about - what happened. And I can't blame you. You were as much a victim as we were. No, you were!" he heard her exclaim as he closed his eyes and shook his head. "You were, Lando! You were up against Darth Vader. _Darth Vader_, Lando! He has all the power. It was a presented as a choice between us, and you and the lives of the people of Bespin, but it was no choice because you had _no_ power! If you'd refused to cooperate, you would most certainly be dead now, and some of your people, if not all of them. If he left any alive, they would be enslaved and abused. I probably would have done the same thing, had I been in your shoes." She paused, turning away. "You tried to fix it. You got us out of Bespin, and you just spent three months in that vile palace to help get Han out. How can I blame you?"

"I don't know," he muttered, feeling confused and ashamed and overwhelmed. He hadn't been anticipating absolution from the princess. "I didn't expect any kind of forgiveness from you. Ever."

"Like I said, I had a lot of time to think about this whole situation. Maybe too much time." He heard her sigh tiredly. "When do we come out of hyperspace?"

"About six hours from now, and then another two or three to the fleet."

"Nine hours then." Her next statement was a surprise. "Would you be willing to sit with him for a while? I need to lie down - for an hour or two."

"Of course."

"I'll be in the crew quarters, they're closer. Come get me right away if he starts to wake or if you see any change. I stopped the anti-nausea meds and changed it to the intravenous fluids to start re-hydrating him. So he might wake up again and need to vomit again."

"All right. I'll come get you."

She left the medbay and Lando took the chair, watching the screen of the medical monitor, hearing the steady, chirping beep.

Wondering how in holy hells had Han Solo won the love of that amazing woman. And how she would take it if the old pirate took a turn for the worse.

_Goddamn it Solo, you'd better make it! _


	46. Return to the Fleet

Usually he was good - very good - at being laser focused, no matter the distractions. But today, for some unknown reason, he could not quite settle.

Carlist Rieekan got up from his desk and walked to the window of his office. As it always was, the vast darkness of space was dotted with pinpricks of light, offsetting the oppressive black with small gems of hope.

Every single day since she left, he prayed for Leia's safety and well-being. For success on that mission. For her - and the rest of the galaxy - to find the strength to keep fighting, to keep chipping away at a cruel and heartless empire. And Carlist Rieekan had never been much of a praying man - until Alderaan's destruction.

He had already been working with the Rebellion, surreptitiously of course, at the time the planet was destroyed. He was in flight, on the way to Yavin 4, when the news came through.

Everyone - no matter what planet they called home - had been in deep shock. No one ever imagined the Empire would blow up a planet.

For him and the other Alderaanians, the immediate reactions that day were varied. Some were in complete denial, and would be for weeks. Others were numb, frozen, unable to grasp the concept of their planet being gone and simply unable to function. And more people had succumbed to hysterics and had to be sedated and restrained to keep them from hurting themselves.

That day had drained him. Being in charge, he could not collapse as others around him had. At least, not in public. He had to keep going, keep the grieving pilots on task to land the ship, and get things organized at the base for the next operations. They could not stop working. _He_ could not stop working. He had to keep moving. Could not, just then, take the time to even start to process the loss of his family, all of whom were on planet at the time. He'd hated himself for it, but it all had to wait.

And then Leia had arrived some hours later. Exhausted, disheveled, in serious physical pain, but alive and functioning. The precious daughter of his late, beloved friends Bail and Breha Organa. He still had to keep focused, but inside a small amount of hope had mixed with soul crushing sadness. His family was _not_ all gone. There was still a child - not of his blood, but of his heart - he could watch over, protect, and love.

For Carlist, having Leia in his life had made the difference for him. Yes, he was connected with and supportive of many of the young people signing up for the Rebellion. It just wasn't the same as having a connection to someone he'd known and cared for since infancy. Building a better galaxy was a noble goal but also a kind of abstraction to him. His children and grandchildren were dead. They could never share it with him. But Leia could, and would. Whenever despair twisted his heart - and Gods knew it did from time to time - he thought of Lelila and the life he wanted her to have. One of freedom, and fulfillment. He wanted her to have happiness and joy, despite the loss of family and planet that would always be there for both of them. He wanted her to do more than just survive day to day.

He smirked a little, thinking of Captain Solo. On the outside the man was many things. Brash. Loud-mouth. Some called him arrogant, and maybe that was true. One of the best pilots Carlist had ever seen. Daring. Smart, with a good natural instinct and ability to see the bigger tactical picture. A space smuggler with criminal connections. Not the kind of man he'd ever imagined would be right for Leia. But somehow Han Solo and Leia Organa fit together perfectly.

Sure, they fought like wildcats, all over any base where they were assigned. The air around them was almost always charged with electricity and verbal barbs. The less observant would think they hated each other. But Carlist had built a career with a quick eye and ability to see details others missed. To him it had been obvious for a long time that, on some level, the smuggler and the princess actually enjoyed and even looked forward to their sparring matches.

When one or the other was hurt or sick, however, little tendernesses sprang up. He thought of the times he'd caught one of them carrying blankets or soup or juice to the other who was sick. Or the time Solo had cut his arm on a piece of jagged metal on Yavin during their move to another base and the way they'd teased each other while Leia stitched him up.

He suspected Leia had held back as long as she did with Han because of Alderaan. She'd been busy and focused while a Senator, but she'd put up serious emotional walls after that day. She was a great leader in spite of the fact that very little seemed to touch her heart. The times she really showed emotion was when Han pushed at her, teased her, challenged her. Carlist could only be glad for that, that Leia hadn't shut down completely. That something - _someone_ \- could still find a way to reach the spirited girl she'd once been.

No one knew how Solo would react to being frozen and then brought out of carbon hibernation. He knew the med droids had run a number of scenarios with Leia, but there was so little data in medical records to know what would happen. It was all inconclusive.

_Gods, I hope they get him and he's all right._

Because if Han Solo didn't make it, Leia wouldn't either.

The buzz of his comm link broke his reverie. He pulled it out of his pocket, expecting to see information on a meeting that Mon Mothma had had to re-schedule. Instead, the screen read _Millenium Falcon docking hangar 5 in 10_.

They were here! Leia was home. His heart soared, and then dropped like a rock. What was going to come off that ship? Who?

Could he go?

Yes, he could. He had no meetings scheduled in the next couple hours. And if anyone wanted him, they could comm him or have him paged. He forwarded the message to Commander Antilles, and left his office.

* * *

In the cafeteria, Commander Wedge Antilles was picking through the lumps of unappetizing powdered eggs on his plate. He sighed. It had been a choice between that, and ration bars. Nothing else looked even remotely appetizing today.

He picked up a forkful and chewed it as best he could. What he wouldn't give for a medium rare Nerf steak, a side of real mashed potatoes with real Nerf butter, and bottles of ten year old Siduri Valley Red. What he had for the last Winter Fete dinner with his family before he left to join the rebellion over four years ago.

Hells, he would take just the red.

The last time he ate or drank anything that good was on Hoth, at a Sabacc game on the Falcon a few days before the Princess and Han Solo left to go on a mission to Ord Mantell.

_"Geez, Solo, this is the really, really good stuff! I've only had this once, when my dad took me out for drinks after I graduated from university!" Wedge exclaimed, examining the glowing bottle of 18 year old Talisker, one of the oldest and most exclusive whiskey companies on Corellia. "How did you get this?"_

_Han smirked down at the young pilot, placing small glasses on the table. "I've got my contacts, kid. And one of them owed me big time. This was just one of several special thank yous." _

_"Damn, I would love to be a smuggler to get perks like this," Wedge breathed in awe, as he sipped the golden liquid and enjoyed the sweet smokey flavor on his tongue. He was in whiskey heaven._

_"Trust me, you wouldn't. It's a lot more pains than perks. If you're done salivating, let's deal." _

Like he did every day, he wondered how they were - Luke, Princess Leia, Chewie. Even that new guy he met for a minute - Lando something or other. No one had heard a word from or about them, and no one, not even General Rieekan, expected to. Not while they were still on this unapproved mission. It was too risky to communicate from that far these days, even with encrypted codes. The general thought they would not be able to let anyone know they were coming until they were almost back at the fleet.

He knew they had that Lando guy in the Hutt's palace as a security guard. And that Luke was going to send in his droids as a gift and to do some spying. After that, he wasn't sure what they had planned. Wedge had heard about Hutts, mostly from Han. Nothing like them existed on Corellia or the other planets he'd visited in his short life. It sounded like they were nasty, but very smart and ruthless. He shivered a little, thinking again of carbon freezing and what awaited Han once he was freed.

There wasn't much data out there about carbon freezing on humans. He'd looked, being a very curious soul, and done a lot of digging. It sounded awful, what creatures and humans went through freezing and then coming out. As an adult, he rarely prayed like his mother had made him as a child. But he did for Han. He did for his friends. He only hoped someone was listening.

"Hey, Antilles, are we still getting a game up tonight?"

"What?" He looked up to see Wes and Hobie and a couple newer recruits from their squad staring down at him hopefully.

"Sabacc, Wedge," Hobie grinned. "You know, the card game."

"Yeah, don't be a smart ass or I'll make you clean your cockpit with - hold on, my comm's buzzing." Wedge pulled it out of his pocket, and noted the name of the sender. "It's General Rieekan."

"I didn't do anything!" Wes exclaimed, holding up his hands in mock protest. "It wasn't me, I swear!"

Wedge glared at him. "Let's see what he wants." He gasped loudly, then stood abruptly and grabbed his tray. "Let's go, fellas, the Falcon's docking."

As he maneuvered his way through the crowded room to the exit, squad members in tow, he faintly heard one of the newer pilots ask, "What's the Falcon?"

* * *

The ship was docked, the ramp was down - and there were about twenty-five pilots milling around the ship.

Carlist sighed, giving a faint smile. It wasn't unexpected, the pilots. He thought Wedge would want to know his friends were back. And Wedge had spread the word. Most of the pilots were from Rogue Squad, but he could see a few from Red and Blue Squads.

Glancing at his watch, he noted it was about thirty-five standard minutes since he'd received the comm. Obviously he was later than he'd wanted to be, but had been shortly detained by a few people along his route who had questions or concerns about something.

He got closer as droids began to exit the ship. First there was a medical droid, followed slowly by a stretcher on wheels. Suddenly the group of pilots stopped talking and moving, and were completely silent.

A body lay on that stretcher, covered in a kind of black rubber that he associated with dead bodies. Carlist felt sick, almost like he would collapse.

_Oh Gods, no!_

But then he noticed the tubes. Clear, thin tubes crossing over and then disappearing into the black material. It looked as if there were fluids moving already.

No. If whomever it was - Han? - was dead, what were the tubes for? The person had to be alive. It didn't make sense otherwise.

Another droid followed the stretcher, accompanied by a young woman in a white coat.

And then Leia. She looked stoic, the facade and persona that had earned her the moniker Ice Princess on Hoth. But even from a distance, he could see the fear in her eyes.

"Leia!" he exclaimed, moving forward quickly, pushing past some pilots. "Are you all right?" He didn't care who was watching as he pulled her into a quick hug.

"Carlist, I'm fine, I'm fine," she replied. He could see tears welling in her eyes as she pulled back and looked up at him. "We have to get Han to the med wing right away. He's - I - I -" she spluttered but could not finish.

And then he realized, in his haste to greet her, he had not looked at the rest of the person on the stretcher.

The body was not fully covered. Not the head. Leia said it was Han, but there was no way in the galaxy anyone would have associated that face with Captain Han Solo. Pale white-grey flaking skin on his face. Almost all his hair had fallen out, leaving a mottled grey scalp exposed. And his eyes and cheeks - so sunken and dehydrated, like the mining slaves he'd been involved in rescuing years ago.

The man looked like death.

Carlist wrapped a steadying arm around Leia's shoulders as they walked as quickly as they could behind the stretcher. Luckily it wasn't far from the hanger to the med wing.

His heart was pounding, his mind was churning.

He'd prayed daily for success on their mission to rescue Han from the Hutt.

Now he would have to pray - hourly - that the medical team would succeed in theirs.

* * *

**Author's note: No Siduri Valley exists in the canon, that I know of anyway. And the whiskey is actually top of the line from the Isle of Sky. I had a feeling Han would, once in a while, get some really classy liquor and share it with his friends.**

**I'm not killing Han. I love him way too much for that, and I just can't do that to Leia. But he's not doing too well. And it will take a while for him to recover. **


	47. Med Wing Conversations

_She stood outside the medical room where staff and droids were working on Han. Staring through the window, Leia watched as tubes and cords connected her lover to various machines._

_She couldn't hear anything - no conversations, no whirring of machines. No infernal beeping. But she could read faces of the few non-droid creatures in the room._

_It wasn't looking good._

_Frowns, tightly compressed lips. Eyes wide with concern._

_And then the shrieking started. Even she could hear that through the thick glass. The wild, loud mechanical screaming of a medical monitor - and a bright red light flashing. _

_The droids and doctors rushing around, looking tense and even scared as they tried to resuscitate Han._

_No! Gods, no! _

_She pressed her hands flat against the window, her mouth open to scream silently. _

_No! This wasn't supposed to happen!_

_The droids and med staff backed away from the bed, removing their equipment. _

_And Han lay with the stillness of one who had lost his tentative hold on life. _

* * *

"Leia?" a soft voice queried.

Startled, the princess turned around from the med wing window she'd been staring through. Watching the techs and droids and doctors work on Han.

She was exhausted. She'd only taken a couple hours rest on the Falcon on the way back to the fleet, her worry for Han not allowing her any more. Now she was sitting in a med wing observation room on Home One, watching as medical staff and droids worked on him.

Six standard hours had passed since she'd relinquished Han's care to the doctors. She'd wanted to stay in the room while they worked on him, but the head doctor and droid took her information and the Falcon's medical monitor readings, told her what they were going to do - and then said she could wait if she wanted in the observation area.

If she wanted? _If_ she wanted? It was all she'd been able to do not to strangle the doctor for saying that. Of course she wanted! And Chewie too!

Lando had been there for a couple hours, but had been called away to confer with the mechanics evaluating the Falcon. Chewie had gone with him to make sure nothing went wrong, warbling his apologies to her for leaving her alone to wait.

Now here was Mon Mothma, encroaching on her space, invading her energy. She didn't want to deal with the woman right now, or anyone really. But she put her exhaustion aside and made an attempt at greeting.

"Mon," she managed quietly.

The High Command leader seemed to falter as she took a step toward Leia, toward the observation windows. "I see the doctors are working on Captain Solo," she said formally, gesturing to the activity in the room.

"Yes," Leia stated.

Mon walked forward to the window, standing tall with her hands clasped behind her back. "It appears they are using the new bacta baths that arrived a few weeks ago. The company also supplied us with a new strain of bacta that is supposed to be even more effective at cellular detoxification and regeneration."

"That is what the doctors told us." Leia's reply was flat and mechanical. She didn't know what to say. There were too many versions of Mon that she was having a hard time reconciling. Which version was talking to her now?

The Mon who seemed to hate Han and disparaged him to her.

The Mon who, in a fit of temper, called her a space slut and threw her father in her face.

The Mon who had alluded to political arranged marriages, but had never gone any farther than that.

Then there was the Mon who had a been a close friend of her father's, and a mentor to her in her early days in the Imperial Senate. The Mon who had allocated serious resources to her for the unofficial mission to Tatooine to rescue Han - including a variety of bacta supplies, most of which they had not needed. The version of Mon who had shown up to see them off, almost at the last minute. She had not uttered a single word, but Leia had seen her and knew she regretted her cruel words about Han.

And now she was here. Leia had not commed Mon to tell her she was back. Leia had not told anyone that they had returned, for that matter. She knew the hangar control had notified Carlist, because he'd told her. And he had in turn passed the information to Wedge. The news must have spread around the rest of the ship.

Mon didn't have to be here now. She could have not come to the med wing at all. Leia sighed, deciding to assume she was dealing with a regretful, more compassionate version of the Alliance leader. Taking a deep breath, she said, "I did not get a chance to thank you for the supplies you allocated to us, Mon. They were much appreciated."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the other woman tense and bit her lower lip. Mon didn't reply, and Leia decided to turn her focus back to what the doctors were doing with Han.

"I was out of line with you, Leia. The things I said - they were horrible. And your father-" Mon broke off, and Leia turned to gape at her in astonishment, hearing the Alliance leader's voice crack. Wide brown eyes met wet green eyes. "You were right. Your parents would want you to be happy. You, who have dealt with so much terrible loss, so young."

"We all deserve to be happy, Mon. We have all dealt with some kind of losses."

"True. And there will be more before we're done." She gestured to the medical suite, and Leia looked back through the thick glass. "If Captain Solo makes you happy, as you said, then you should be with him. No matter what I or anyone else thinks of him."

Was that - a kind of blessing from the Alliance leader? Leia bit her lip, not wanting to respond right away, thinking through what she'd just heard. Leia was well practiced in extracting real meaning from speech - how words were said was even more important at times than the actual words. She'd heard not even the smallest lilt of sarcasm in any of what Mon had just said. No ulterior agenda. Her gut said it was all sincerely meant.

"Yes. He makes me very happy. And as soon as he is well, I intend to resume my relationship with him." No use in beating around the bush. No use in not being bold. "He's so much more than just a smuggler."

Mon's reply was that of the practiced politician. "Yes. Captain Solo is a complex individual." But she was not done being unpredictable. "I prayed for the success of your mission each day you were gone, and I will now pray for his recovery."

Deciding to take the last statement as peace offering, Leia replied with a soft "Thank you." She was exhausted, dehydrated and now feeling a stinging pain again on the side of her neck from that stupid slave collar. But she still had a sliver of energy in her to find graciousness.

A med droid entered the observation room just then. "Princess Leia? We have some updates on Captain Solo's condition."

Mon squeezed her shoulder in a gesture of support. "I'll leave you to hear the news. We will talk again another time."

Leia nodded, watching for a moment as the Alliance leader left the room. Then she turned her full attention to the droid.

"Tell me."


	48. Luke's Visions

He'd been here almost two days.

Two whole in the tiny space carved out in the roots of a great tree, while the humid steams of Dagobah swirled around the house.

And Yoda had yet to make an appearance.

At first, Luke wondered if the elderly Jedi master had somehow died in his absence. He assumed, when Yoda passed, it would be as Ben had on the Death Star - simply vanishing into the Force, leaving behind nothing physical other than his cloak. But there was no clothing lying around randomly, no blankets in disarray in the alcove where Yoda slept.

Far more reassuring was the feeling of his Force presence, very strong and vital. He was somewhere nearby, doing something.

The old Luke, more impetuous and reckless, would have raced out into the swamp to try to find Yoda, impatient in his need to have his questions answered. But that person was no longer in charge. No, his battle with Vader and the stunning news of his parentage - and the pain of his injury - had sobered him greatly, slowed him down and made him more deliberate. At least most of the time.

If Yoda was gone from home, there was a reason for it. And the Jedi master would return in his own good time.

That left Luke the opportunity to relax, to review and to meditate.

Much to his surprise, he'd slept astoundingly well last night, even in the cramped space of the house. He hadn't had any dreams of any kind, and had woken feeling quite refreshed. Ready to review his notes, ready to meditate.

That dream, that vision of those babies. He'd had it several times since Bespin, and after the third time, he'd recorded whatever details he could remember on his data pad. There were so many different images.

Two babies, wrapped in blankets. Sometimes held by people, sometimes by medical droids.

Two men. One tall, robust and dark complected with short dark hair and a small beard and mustache. He was dressed in a long fine quality military style tunic of dark blue. His sadness was unmistakable. In many images, tears streamed down his face.

The other shorter, leaner, with blonde hair and a fuller mustache and beard than the other man. Wearing a rough dark brown tunic, belt and leggings, he looked younger than the other man. Luke could sense grief in him, but he did not show it as much as the other man.

And one woman. Lying on a table, her face red, her curly brown hair matted with sweat. She must have just given birth to the babies to look that way.

Sometimes the men stood next to each other, each holding a baby. Another image placed the blonde man next to the woman, as he held one baby and the medical droid held the other.

And yet a different image showed the two men walking away from each other, each carrying a baby. Separating them. And that felt so wrong somehow.

There was something familiar about the blonde man, but it continued to escape him. And oddly, he felt a connection to the woman. It was as if Luke felt he needed her. Whenever he imagined her in his mind, he often found he felt loss and regret. More recently, he felt despair - as if a light had gone out in the world that could never be re-lit.

He sighed loudly. It was all such a mystery, one he hoped Yoda could help untangle, once the Jedi returned from wherever he was. The continued dreams meant _something_, but he had no idea what.

Beginning his breathing to slow down and start meditation, he felt himself slowly being immersed into the Force. It was so much different meditating here, in the home of a living Jedi, than it was on Home One, or even in the abode of the late Obi-Wan Kenobi. It was something like being in the bacta tank on Hoth. Almost all at once, the Force was everywhere - around him, inside him, his past, present and future. It was calming and exhilarating at the same time.

"Show me," he whispered. "Show me what I need to see, tell me what I need to know."

It was a request he'd made at times in the past when meditating. When he wanted to try to give Leia some comfort, some hope for finding Han, he'd specifically asked the Force for guidance. And he got it. Maybe the Force could now give him some insight into these recurring dreams.

The images from his past dreams swirled and floated around him, intermingling with new images.

The tall, dark man was seated on a large balcony next to a woman in black, who was holding a baby. Mountains loomed in the distance behind them as they gazed down, smiling at the child.

But the man in the brown tunic - he was now wearing a hooded cloak as he handed the baby to a young blonde woman in a rough blue tunic. She took the child and turned away from the man to walk towards a different man.

"Oh Gods," Luke gasped as the images abruptly disappeared.

Just before the visions closed, he was able to get a glimpse of the sky behind the woman in blue. The clouds obscured them slightly, but the twin suns of Tatooine were clearly outlined, falling below the horizon as they set.

And he knew the woman in blue. He knew her very, very well indeed.

"It's me," he stammered, hand shaking as he reached for his data pad to try to record the new images. "It has to be. It has to be me." He felt heat rush through him, felt his face flush. Luke try to breathe slowly to calm his pounding heart, but that was impossible. "A sibling? I'm a twin? Did they know?" He put his head between his knees, feeling as if he might throw up.

A knocking of wood on wood and the sound of a very familiar voice made Luke freeze.

"A sibling you have. A twin you are. Know of the other child, your aunt and uncle did not."

He raised his head slowly as the Jedi Master tottered slowly into the house.

"Gone a long time you have been, young Skywalker," he muttered, setting down his walking stick. "Much you have seen."

Luke did not say anything as Yoda came over to where he sat and took his right hand in his small green fingers. How much time passed, he couldn't say, as he simply held Luke's cybernetic hand in his own. "Suffered you have," Yoda finally said quietly. "Suffered your friends have."

Luke nodded, but said nothing. He felt so tired all of a sudden, too exhausted to make any kind of demands. Vaguely he wondered if Yoda had done something to him with the Force, to slow him down to sleep. To make his limbs so heavy he felt he could hardly move.

"Answers to questions, you want. But rest we will need, for long and painful they are, these stories."

And with that pronouncement, Yoda crawled into his own bed and gave him a pointed look, leaving Luke to find his way to his blankets, still in his clothes and boots, and fall asleep.


	49. Family History, Part 1

**Author's note - in the movie, Luke returns to Dagobah from rescuing Han, speaks to Yoda for like a nanosecond, Yoda dies, and Ben gives him another teeny fact. And that's it. **

**I've never, ever liked how short that was. Finding out this family history is a big deal. Luke and Yoda and Ben will be having at least a couple longer conversations about it all before Yoda dies. Either I will lay out the conversation, or it will be implied that a conversation took place. **

* * *

Luke rolled over on his side, groaning. His head pounded, his body hurt. What happened last night that he felt this morning like one of the worst hangovers he'd ever had. Slowly, ever so slowly, he sat up and pressed his fingers to his temples.

"Terrible, you look. And awful you feel," a familiar voice stated. "This will you drink. Improve your disposition, it will."

"Gee, thanks Master Yoda," Luke said sarcastically, taking a warm mug from his hands. He recognized the smell, having drunk the concoction of leaves and roots more than once when he was here before. It was a kind of tea, and despite the earthy flavor, was quite tasty.

"Dreams you have had," Yoda said quietly, sitting in his chair with his own steaming mug. "Recognize the people, you do not."

"One I did. I saw her during my meditation, just before you came back last night. My Aunt Beru, as a young woman."

"Met her I did not."

"She was a good woman," a familiar voice broke in. "I knew when I left you with her, you would be in good hands."

"Ben!" Luke exclaimed, almost spilling his tea as he watched the Force ghost of the late Jedi appear in the room. "_You_ are the man in the brown tunic!"

"Yes, Luke."

"Well, who are the other people?" he shouted, impatience suddenly getting the better of him. "The woman, who must be my mother? And the other man? My twin?"

There was no reply as Yoda and Ben looked at each other, having a conversation without words. Then Luke saw Yoda nod.

"The woman you saw in your dreams. She was lying on a table, just having given birth," Ben said. "Yes, she was your mother."

"Was?" Luke asked, honing in on that word. "She's dead?"

"She died very shortly after giving birth to you and your twin. Her name was Padme Amidala Naberrie. She was a former Queen of Naboo, and later a Senator for Naboo in the Galactic Senate."

He shook his head, looking at Yoda and Ben in confusion. "I've never heard of her."

"Know about your father, you do," Yoda said gravely. "Told he was a Jedi named Anakin Skywalker, you were as a child. True that is. Told he was killed by Darth Vader, you were. Differently now, you know."

Luke nodded, remember that horrible moment as he clung to life, to a weather vane in Bespin. _Luke, I am your father_. "Yes," he whispered. "Anakin fell to the dark side and became Darth Vader." He studied the mug in his hands, thinking of the pain of that revelation, the weeks, the months it took to come to grips with it.

"You both knew. Why didn't you tell me? Before I left for Bespin?"

The house was silent for a long moment, filling with the tension of guilt and pain. "I can speak only for myself," Ben finally said. "Perhaps I should have, perhaps not. I wonder if you would have believed us then. If we had told you as you were getting ready to race off to help your friends, would the shock of knowing Vader was your father derailed you? Would it have distracted you to the point that Vader would have harmed you more than he did, or even killed you? That is why I did not tell you at that time. Even now, you are still processing what he revealed to you several months ago. You may spend the rest of your life making peace with that knowledge. It is not the kind of news one simply drops on a person."

"No, I suppose not," Luke said numbly, not completely satisfied with the answer. What was done, was done. Perhaps for the best, perhaps not. But this was not the only question he had. Far from it.

"I want to know who the other man was, the tall dark man. And my sibling! Is he or she even alive?" Luke demanded.

"The other man was Viceroy Bail Prestor Organa of Alderaan," Ben said, smiling faintly as Luke gasped loudly.

"Leia?" he choked. His hands shook as he pressed his fingers to his lips. "Leia is my sister?"

"Yes, she is."

Luke couldn't help laughing, even as he cried with shock and happiness that his sibling was alive. He shook his head, remembering the look on Han's face as Leia kissed him in the med bay on Hoth.

"Funny you find this?" Yoda glared at him.

"Actually, a little. It sure explains why that kiss was such a dud," Luke said. "I'm sorry."

"Let the boy have his laugh," Ben interjected. "There is precious little funny about the stories we have, the things we experienced. The things Luke has experienced."

"Why were all of you there when Leia and I were born? Where were we born, anyway? And why did you separate us?"

"You were born on Polis Massa. To answer the other questions, we should go back to the beginning of what Yoda and I know about Anakin."

Yoda waved his hand dismissively. "That story later, we can start. Hrph! Here to train as well as talk, Luke is."

"Of course, Master," Ben said.

Luke started to protest. How could they cut it off now? There was so much he wanted to know, to ask! But he knew from prior experience with Yoda, the elderly Jedi could not be pressured to do anything he did not want to do.

"Fine. I can wait. I guess I don't have any choice." Luke said irritably.

"Waited over twenty years already, you have," Yoda stated. "A few more days won't hurt you."

* * *

**Author's note - can you imagine trying to process the whole backstory in one gulp? Neither can I. So these stories and family history revelations with Luke and Yoda and Ben will be piecemeal. A little part of history, some processing and Jedi training time. Repeat. Luke will stay with Yoda for a while and he will come back to the fleet just prior to the Endor mission. Exact same timing as in ROTJ.**


End file.
